Discussions of Robert Lewis Dabney Vol. 4: Secular

RoBE^ L. Dabney, d. d., ll d.

RECENTLY PROFESSOR OP MORAL PHILOSOPHY

IN THE UNIVERSITY OP TEXAS, AND FOR

MANY YEARS PROFESSOR OP THEOLOGY

IN UNION THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY

IN VIRGINIA.

EDITED UY

C. R. VAUGHAN, D. D.

MtOFKSSOK (»FTHEOr.OGV IX t'NIOS THKitLOr.irAL SKMINAHY. VIIUUNIA.

VOL. IV.
SECULAR.

Harrisonburg, Virginia

SPRINKLE PUBLICATIONS

1994

CONTENTS.

The New South, ....... 1

Letter to O. O. Howard, Chief op Feeedmen's Bureau, 25

Abstractionists, ....... 46

Criues of Philanthropy, ..... 53

Defense of Dr. Dabsev's Narrative of the First Battle of

Manassas, . . . .71

Narrative of Col. J. B. Baldwin, of his Secret Interview with

Abraham LincolD in 1861, Disclosing the Origin of the War, 87

The Real Cause of the War, ..... 101

The Dutv of the Hour, ..... 108

The United States AS A Military Nation, 123

Stonewall Jackson, Lecture, ..... 149

Thf Negro AND the Common School, •. 176
The State Free School System Imposed upon Yir^nia by the

Underwood Constitution, ..... 191
Secularized Education, 225
Review of "Wilsons Slave Power in America," 248
State Free Schools, , 260
Commendation OP the Study' OF Philosophy, Lecture, 281
Labor Unions, the Strike and the Commune, 294
Depression of American'Faruing Interests, 321
The Dollar of the Daddies. . 341
Economic Kpfect&of the Former Labor System of the South-
ern United States, . . , . . 354
Memoirs of Francis S. Sampson, D. D., . 392
True Courage. A Memorial Sermon on the Death of General T. J.

Jackson, June, 1863, . . 435
A Memorial of Lieut. Col. John T. Thornton of the Third

Virginia Cavalry, C. S. A 453

Nature Cannot Revolutionize Nature, 470

Samuel C. Anderson, of Prince Edward, .... 476

Women's Rights Women, ...... 489

Latest Infidelity. A Reply to IngersoH's Position, 506

The Attractions of Popery, ..... 540

The Influence of False Philosophies upon Character and

AND Conduct, ....... 568

San Marcus River, 577

Death of Moses, ....... 579

Baptismal Hy.mn. A Monody. The Dying Christian, 584

A Sonnet to Lee, . . ' 587
Gen'l T- J. Jackson. An Elegy, . .588

Annihilation. ... .... 594

First Texas Brigade at the Wilderness, 598

THE NEW SOUTH.

A Discourse delivered ai the Annual Commencement of Hampden Sidney

College, June 15, 1882, before the Philanthropie and

Union Literary Societies.

Voung Gentlemen of the riiilautliropic and Union Societies,

And L;i(li(!s and (ientlemen of the Audience:

You will credit my expression of sincere embarrassment at
this time when you consider that I am attempting a species of
discourse somewhat uuwoulcd ty a preacher of the Grospel, and
vet more, that I am placed here only as a species of Dernier Res-
sort. We all had hopes that another gentleman would repre-
sent the two Literary Societies, better fitted to entertain and
instruct this assemblage. But disappointment left the place,
at a very late period, unfilled, and we were threatened with
having this important part of our literary anniversary left a
mere blank. I stand here, therefore, in the formula of your ex-
ercises very much in the place of that "infinitesimal quantity,"
which the algebraist places equal to zero in his equation, with-
out appreciable error.

This fact might have led me to decline the untimely effort,
but we who are passing off the stage of public action owe a
sympathy to the young who are entering on it, which should
forbid our withholding any service or evidence of affection
they may ask of us. It is this which has forbidden my saying
No to your request.

In your case there is another weighty consideration which
ought to reinforce your claim on us for a deep sympathy. This
is found in the momentous difficulties of the Arena on which
the young men of the coming generation are called to act their
part. And yet another thought crosses the mind. Ought the
knowledge of the difficulties which are before you to stimulate
the expression of our interest, or ought it to dictate a modesty,
which should silence us as advisers of our young countrymen?
For it is by our hands that these cruel conditions of your life-
problem have been trans'mitted to you. The heritage of freedom

2 THE NEW SODTH.

wiiich our fathers left us, we have not been able to bequeath to
you. As memory reverts to my youth, when I stood where you
now stand, it presents a contrast which might well seal my lips
with grief and shame. Then my honored father and grand-
father were just going off the stage, the one a soldier of the
first war which won our independence, and the other of tht sec-
ond war which confirmed it, both examples of thai; citizen &oi-
diery which had been the glory of America, plain, simple, un-
pretending, but incorruptible. And Virginia then stood, viitli
untarnished escutcheon, poor indeed from the burdens of two
wars, and the legislative exactions of her partners in the Union,
clad mostly in homespun, but still the "great and unterrified
commonwealth" which extorted this tribute from Cornwallis
in his hour of victory: "mother of Statesmen and States," whose
humblest citizen knew no master except Grod and the law of his
own State's election, whose banner had never trailed before a
conqueror, by whom no federal obligation had ever been dis-
honored, and no creditor ever defrauded of one penny; with a
credit as solid as gold in the emporiums of trade; the firm and
prudent mediator between federal power and the too impatient
spirit of her sisters. Thus did our fathers transmit Virginia to
our guardianship, the warrior-virgin, like the Pallas- Athene of
Phidias, as she stood before the Parthenon, flashing the rad-
iance of her golden helm and full-orbed shield across the Saronic
gulf and Aegina and Salamis, to far off Maegara and Argos.

But we, vae nobis miserrimis! deliver her over to you, not.
How? a pallid, woful widow, deflowered by subjugation, dis-
membered of her fair proportions, her weeds besmirched even
by her own sons, virtually governed by the votes of an alien and
barbarous horde, forced into her bosom by her late partners,
now her ravagers, against her constant protest!

As I remember this I ask myself, should not men who
have so failed in their charge, who have suffered the glorious
heritage of their fathers to be so marred in their hands, cover
their faces and be silent?

But our sons, whom our weakness, or else our hard fate,
has left disinherited, seem niot to be ashamed of us! They ask,
they encourage us to speak. This is my apology for presuming
to apeak to-day to the "New South," and of the New South.

TBB NEW SOTTTH. S

Our other apology is, that in the endeavor to save the liberties
transmitted by our fathers, we did what we could. And in
proof of this justifying plea, we can point to the forms prema-
turely bent, and the heads whitened by fatigue and camp dis-
eases, to the empty sleeves, and wooden legs, and t3 the Con-
federate graves so thickly strewn over the land. Our apology is,
again, that while we were contending for the rights and inter-
ests of the civilized world, nearly the whole world blindly and
passionately arrayed itself against us. Such was the strange
permission of Providence, that we, while defending the cause
of all, should be slandered and misunderstood by all. But why
should I say this fearful dispensation was strange? when we
see that from the days of the Christian martyrs until now,
mankind have usually resisted and sought to destroy its true
benefactors. So it was; we had the world against us. There
was, after all, little exaggeration in the description which the
Confederate soldier at Missionary Bidge, with the humorous
exaggeration of his class, gave of his own case. Said he : No
misgiving of our final delivery had ever disturbed him until at
the early dawn of that disastrous battle, as he was standing post
on the advanced picket on Lookout Mountain, just when the
stars were beginning to pale before the grey dawn, and all na-
ture stood hushed in expectancy of the coming king of day, the
S3lemn silence was broken by the words of command, rolling
from the Yankee headquarters over the forests in these terms :
"Attention, World! Nations, by the right flank, forward!
Wheel into line of battle." Yes, we had the world against us.
And this is one item of proof for that fact which completes
our apology for failure; that subsequent events have shown we
were attempting to defend and preserve a system of free gov-
ernment which had become impossible by reason of the change
and degeneration of the age. We did not believe this at the
time, for we had not omniscience. Nay, it was, at that time,
our duty not to know it, or to believe it, even as it is the duty
at the loyal son not to believe the disease of his venerable
mother mortal, so long as hope is possible; not to cease the ef-
forts of his love, and not to surrender her to death while love
and tenderness can contest the prize. We had received this
free government from our fathers, baptized in their blood ; we

4 THE NKW SOUTH.

had received from them the sacred injunction to preserve it.
We had witnessed its beneficent results. Of all men it was our
duty to feel ourselves most bound by the marlm of the Roman
republican, Non fas est de Republica desperate. The changes
had silently taken place, which rendered our fathers' system
too good for those who were to execute it; and yet it would
have been treason to truth and right for us to despair of tlie
better possibility, until the impossibility stood sternly revealed.
Thus the task which duty and Providence assigned us was, to
demonstrate by our own defeat, after intensest struggle, the
unfitness of the age for that blessing we would fain have pre-
served for them. Hard task, and hard destiny to attempt the
impossible! but one which has often been exacted by a mys-
terious Providence from the votaries of duty. Yet it gives us
this hard consolation, that inasmuch as the survival of our old
system had become impracticable, failure in the effort to pre-
serve it might be incurred without dishonor.

And there is this concurrence in the justification of the
Confederates, and the justification to which you, the "New
South," will soon have to appeal for your actions: that botn
apologies are correctly drawn from the same premise. Be-
cause the old free system has become impossible for your times;
therefore you will be justified in living and acting under an
opposite one. There will be an apparent paradox in this: that
you shall applaud and revere your fathers for their determined
opposition. to forms and principles, which you shall receive and
even sustain. But the paradox will be only in seeming. Your
justification will be found where we find ours; in the fact that
the institutions which it was our duty to defend, because they
still existed, it will be your duty to surrender, because you have
learned by our innocent calamity that they cannot hereafter
exist. "A new South" is inevitajble, and therefore it will be
right for you to accept it, though it was our duty to fight to
prevent it. It may be the son's duty to-morrow to "bury the
dead mother out of his sight," whom it was the father's most
sacred duty yesterday to endeavor to keep alive.

The government our fathers left to us was a federation of
sovereign States. As such they emerged from the war of the
revolution, and were recognized by Great Britain. Ai .tuch

THE NEW SOUTH. 6

they met in eonvention to devise a "closer union." Ag such
they debated and accepted or rejected the terms proposed
therefor (for some States at first did exercise their unquestion-
ed sovereignty in rejecting the new union.) By their several
and sovereign acts they created a central federated govern-
ment, with limited powers strictly defined, and deputed to this
common-agent certain powers over their own citizens, to be im-
partially exercised for the equal behoof of all the. partners.
All other powers, including that of judging and redressing vital
infractions of this federal compact, they jealously aud express-
ly rt^served to themselves or to their people. To the outside
world they were to be one, to each other they were to be still
equals and independent partners. Each State must be a re-
public, as distinguished from a monarchy or oligarchy, but in
all else it was to be mistress of its own internal forms and regu-
lations. The functions of the general government were to be
few and defined, its expenditures modest, and its burdens in
time of peace light. Such was the form of government insti-
tuted for themselves by our free forefathers; and well fitted
to their genius and circumstances, as communities of farmers,
inhabiting their own homes, approaching an equality of condi-
tion, and having upon the whole continent no one city of con-
trolling magnitude or wealth.

But this century has seen all this reversed; and conditions
of human society have grown up, which make the system of our
free forefathers obviously impracticable in the future. And
this is so, not because the old forms were not good enough for
this day, but because they were too good for it.

1. I would place as the first of these adverse conditions
the silent substitution, under the same nomenclature, of anoth-
er theory of human rights, in contrast with, and hostile to, thai
of our fathers. Those wise men did indeed believe in a certain
equality of all men ; but it was that which the British constitu-
tion (whose principles they inherited) was wont to express by
the maxim: that every British citizen "was equal before the
law." The particular franchises of the peer and the peasant
were very unequal, but in this important respect the two men
were "equal before the law," that the peasant's smaller fran-
chises were protected by the same law which shielded the peer's

6 THE NEW SOUTH.

larger one. This is the equality of the golden rule, the equal-
ity of that Bible which ordained the constitution of human so-
ciety out of superiors, inferiors and equals; the equality of the
insjjired Job (ch. 31: 13-15) who in tLe very act of asserting his
right to his slave, added: "Did not he that made me make
him? If I did despise the cause of my man-servant or my maid-
servant when they contended with me, what then shall I do
when God riseth up?" This is the equality which is thoi'oughly
consistent with that wide diversity of natural capacities, vir-
tues, station, sex, inherited possessions, which inexorable fact
discloses everywhere and by means of which social organiza-
tion is possible. But in place of this, the equality taught by
Hampden, Vane, Pym, Melville, and the Whigs of 1776, our
modern politician now teaches, under the same name, the equal-
ity of the Jacobin, of the "Sans culotte," which absurdly claims
for every human the same specific powers and rights. Yes,
your Greeley teaches, as the equality of Republicanism, the
very doctrine of the frantic Leveller Ldlburn, whose book these
great English Republicans caused (not your tyrannical Stuart
but the commonwealth's-men) to be burned in London by the
common hangman!

Our fathers valued liberty, but the liberty for which they
contended was each person's privilege to do those things and
those only tD which God's law and Providence gave him a mor-
al right. The liberty of nature which your modern asserts is
absolute license; the privilege of doing whatever a corrupt will
craves, except as this license is curbed by a voluntary "social
contract." The fathers of our country cauld have adopted the
sublime words of Melville: Leoc: Rex. The Law is king. Or
have said with Sir Wm. Jones:

Men constitute a State:
And sovereign Law, that State's collected will,

O'er thrones and gloibes elate.
Sits Empress, crowning good, repressing ill.

Smit by her sacred frown,
The fiend (Construction) Discretion like a vapor sinks.

And even the all-dazzling crown.
Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks.

But now, by this new Republicanism, the supreme law is

THE NEW SOUTH. 7

the will or caprice of what happens to be the major mob, the
suggestion of the demagogue who is most artful to seduce.

These are a few items of the new creed, which has stolen
the nomenclature of the old. Since it is a theory at all essen-
tial points antagonistic to the old, its prevalence cannot but
supplant those sound institutions which were the natural out-
growth of the orthodox doctrine.

2. When our former constitution was adopted, America
contained no metropolis, not even any city of note; there were
a few trading towns, of which each State had one or more, and
of which neither had any effectual ascendancy over the others.
Hence State equality was practicable, and could be effectively
something more than a name. But now, the great emporium of
this continent has made herself, by virtue of natural advantages
co-operating with partial legislation, commercial mistress of
all, and asserts a financial ascendancy which brings the busi-
ness and the welfare of the whole country to her feet. It used
to be said that in England "all roads lead to London." So, in
this vast continent, all railroads tend to New York, or those
which vainly attempt to reject her dominion soon feel it in the
form of empty trains and vanished revenues. Now, in view of
that truth announced by Solomon, that "money answereth all
things,'' can a sensible man persuade himself that political in-
dependence and equality can permanently remain in a land
where financial despotism has become established? "The bor-
rower is servant to the lender." The political subjection must,
sooner or later, follow the financial. .

3. Our century has witnessed a general change of social
conditions by means of the marvelous applications of science
and mechanic art to cheapen transportation and production.
Once the commonwealth owned all the highways by water and
by land, and each private citizen might become a carrier if he
chose. Now the highways are the property of great carrying
corporations, who command more men as their disciplined em-
ployes than the government's own standing army, before whose
revenues the whole incomes of commonwealths are paltry
trifles; to whose will legislatures hasten to bow. Each of these
roads points virtuall.y to New York. To that city, yes, to one
comer of Wall Street in that city, center all their debts, their
loans, their revenues, their chief management,

8 THK NKW SOUTH.

This centralization is as remarliable also in the producing
arts. The time was when manufactures were literally domestic
— the occupations of the people in their homes. Tbe industrious
producing citizen was a "free-bolder," a name whose vital sig-
nificance to British liberty our times have almost forgotten. He
dwelt under his own roof-tree. He was his own man ; he was
the fee-simple owner of the homestead where his productions
were created by the skill and labor of himself and his children,
apprentices and servants. Now all this.is changed ; the loom is
no longer heard in tbe home; vast factories, owned by monopo-
lists for whom the cant of the age has already found their ap-
propriate name as "kings of industry," now undersell the home
products everywhere. Tbe axe and hoe which the husbandman
wields, once made at tbe country forge, the shoe placed on his
mule's feet, the plow with which he turns tbe soil, the very
helve in his tool, all come from the factory. The home indiis-
try of the housewife in brewing her own yeast can hardly sur-
vive, but is supplanted by your factory "baking powders," in
which chemical adulterations may have full play. Thus pro-
duction is centralized. Capital is eolleoted in eommanding
masses, at whose bidding tbe free-holding citizen is sunk into
the multitudinous hireling proletariat. Ck)ndition8 of social or-
ganization are again produced, fully parallel to the worst re-
sults of feudalism, in their incompatibility with republican in-
stitutions.

4. From these changes have resulted the extreme inequali-
ties <jf fortune, expenditures and luxury which now deform
American society. When our late constitution was enacted,
American citizens enjoyed a general equality of fortune and
comfort, which made a real, republican equality of rights prac-
ticaible. The only aristocracy recognized was that of intelli-
gence and merit. The richest citizen was only a farmer, some-
what more abounding than his neighbor, in the breadth of his
fields. A British writer, endeavoring to trace in the republican
society the existence of a gentry, could find no greater incomes
than those of Washington, of Mt. Vernon, and Carroll, of Car-
rollton, each reaching possibly $20,000 per annum. And the
Mt. Vernon mansion appeared in his eyes so modest that he
spoke of it as "the cottage," inhabited by the proprietor. But

THE NEW SOUTH. 9

now! some ot our "kings of industry" count their inoomea by
almost as many dollars per day. Set the more than regal lux-
ury of a Vanderbilt, in his gaudy palace, beside the hireling
laborer in his sordid tenement-lodging, who is his theoretical
equal! Yes, the starving hireling's vote, who does not know
whence to-morrow's potatoes are to come for the pauper din-
ner of his ragged children, shall count for precisely as much
as the vote of a Vanderbilt. This is the theory. And this
wretch is so exalted by his manhood suffrage, is he? as to be
thoroughly content with the monstrous inequality of enjoy-
ments and to hearken tD no cravings of envy or rancour, when
he sees this rampant luxury flaunted before his misery? And
this lordly millionaire, pampered by his immeasurable abun-
dance, will feel no lust of power, no amibition to add civic do-
minion to the plutocratic which he already possesses, and he
will be satisfied to have the ignorant vote of his hireling weigh
precisely as much as his own in every legislative act touching
his tenure of his millions? He who knows human nature sees
that to expiect this is mere craziness. This enormous inequal-
ity in wealth will seek to protect, to assert itself in politics.
But our new-fangled Republicanism asserts that, politically,
the Vanderbilt shall be the precise equivalent of the pauper.
It leaves the rich man no legitimate form, for the assertion of
his superior weight or the protection of his superior interests
in the State. Wealth, then, must seek for itself illegitimate
forms. And in obeying the inevitable impulse through thest?
illegal ways, it must corrupt itself, and the institutions of the
land.

5. The press has been looked to as the safe guardian of
popular institutions. It has been called by an English Whig
"the fourth estate of the Realm." But the influences under
which the political press in America operates constitute this
also one of the fatal hindrances to the subsistence of wise, free
institutions. The powerful journals must be also the creatures
of money. The conditions of JDumalism are such that only a
vast capital can float a journal into a safe and permanent hav-
en of success. Literature is a commodity, money buys and sells
it. Let the genius of an Addison, a BolingbrDoke, a Junim, a
Macaulay, all be combined on the one side, with all the richest

10 THE NEW SOUTH.

resources of historical learning to pu'blish the political truths
which happen to be unpopular without a great capital ; and let
commercial capital give its suppDrt to the pen of the most ig-
uorant demagogue tD propagate the crudest absurdities in which
capital supposes it has a selfish and corrupt interest, ynu shall
see Ihe wisdom of true statesmanship, embelliali'»d by all the
graces of scholarship consigned to an unread obscurity in this
country, while the vulgar stupidities of error shall visit every
table and claim every eye. MammDU wills it so, and Mammon
rules.

The reason is because the leading presses of the i»mraer-
ciiil centers are either the tools of parties and used for exclu-
sive partisan purposes, or else they are, like the calico mills,
mere joint-stock concerns for money making. Either «vay, the
result is the same. The contents of the journal are not dictat-
ed at all by truth or right, but solely by self-interest. What
doctrine shall it assert? Only that which advances the strength
of the faction, or which attracts the more numerous subscrib-
ers. Thus the press instead of being the guide, becDmes the
mere sycophant of misguided public opinion. Let only any
political heresy begin to be current enough to become an ele-
ment of danger to sound institutions, and thenceforward it is
the interest and business of the great journals to give it their
support. To resist and explode it "would not pay."

6. One more change only, my time permits me to state,
v/hich concurs to render the system of onr fathers a thing cf
the pagt. This is the invariable extension of the suffrage, which
has attended every political change in America. This trait has
characterized not only the violent revolution thrDugh which we
have passed, but every modification of constitution made by the
States. We even see it working with equal certainty in the re-
form measures of once conservative England. In every case
where a State CDustitution has been opened to change, that
change has been towards universal suffrage, unless this ex-
treme had been already reached; and in no single case has a
restriction of suffrage been even attempted. There is a reason
for this fated law of progress downwards in the nature of the
demagogue, and it may be said in passing, that this presents
us the fatal weak pDint in the theory of popular government.

ME NEW SOUTH, H

The selfish calculations and instincts of these courtiers of King
Mob, always prompt them to advocate every extension, no
matter how unwise or destructive, and seal their lips from op-
posing it. Their calculatiDn runs thus: Here is a new class
whom some one has proposed to enfranchise. I know, as does
every sensible man, that it is a folly. But perhaps the proposal
may prevail. Hence, I cannot afford to oppose it, for should
it prevail, the newly enfranchised, when they come to the polls,
will remember my action against me. But if I am a forward
advocafe of it, their gratitude will make them vote for me.
Thus the craziest and most ruinous propDsition to create a new
class of voters, always has zealous assertors, and for the same
reason it meets with no op-posers who are effective.

Such were the avowed motives (with sectional hatred and
revenge) which prompted our conquerors to fix on the South-
ern half of the country that last extreme of political madness,
the universal and unqualified suffrage of the slaves. And how
deadly in their patency these motives of self-seeking are, we
may see in this fact, that they even silence the protest of our
own politicians! There is not one of them who does not know
tjiat this measure is inevitably pregnant with the corruption
and overthrow of honest, popular government; yet there is not
one of them, who is a candidate for votes, who has the nerve
to say what he thinks, or to demand a reversal of the criminal
blunder. But when the leaders of the very people who are the
first victims of this wrong, are too much intimidated to lift a
finger for its correction, whence shall deliverance from, the fa-
tal incubus come? There will be no deliverance until suffrage
shall have been so foully corrupted by this and its other per-
versions, that a despairing and ruined people take refuge from
its intDlerable tyrannies in the will of an autocrat, and the ig-
norant and venal cease to vote only when and because all will
be forbidden to vote.

Whether just and free institutions can co-exist in such a
country as this, with its vast population and inequalities of
condition, along with this extravagance of universal suffrage,
needs no debate. Do you remember the prophetic letter of Lord
Macaulay to Mr. Eandall, of New York? Do you remember the
homely instance by which a greater than Macaulay, and a more

12 THE NEW SOUTH.

prophetic statesman, was wont to close his arguments in favor
of that sheet anchor of liberty, free-hold suffrage? Mr. Ran-
dolph used to exclaim: "Sirs, the empty sack does not stand
upright." In an advanced material civilization like ours, ev-
ery political action touches projxjrty somewhere; If the vote
which represents no property is made of equal weight with the
vote which represents large property, then, with such inequali-
ties of wealth, with such ostentatious displays of the luxury of
the few piquing the envy of the impoverished many, just so
surely as men are men, greedy in desire, selfish and unright-
eous, and the more unrighteous where their crime is wrapped
up from the eye of conscience in the folds of associated action,
two results must follow, are already following. The attempt
of the proletariat and their demagogues to use their irresponsi-
ble suffrage for plunder; the resistance of the capital-holding
minority to this plunder. But for this resistance, though it })e
as inevitable as the instincts of self-preservation, your radical
theory offers no .recognized, legitimate mode. Radicalism or-
dains that the small shall be equal to the large; the dependent
shall counterweigh the independent; the vote which has noth-
ing to lose, shall dispose of the vote of him who has all to lose.
The result is, that self-defense invents illegitimate modes, and
the unrighteous assault on property is met by the illegal use of
property to protect itself and to inflate itself until the moral
corruptions wrought in our politics fester to putrescence and
dissolve the body.

As we thus look back upon the social revolution which had
established itself in our century, we see that political revolu-
tion had become unavoidable. The assault on our rights and
institutions was but the first wave of the cataclysm. It swept
over our best resistance, because there were other waves be-
hind it which are destined in turn to conquer our conquerors.
He is a shallow man, indeed, who supposes that the revolution
will pause at its present stage, leaving the conquering section
ascendant, and rendering this unstable equilibrium of the mo-
ment permanent. No, we have now seen but the first act of the
drama, and it has been a tragedy. The curtain has fallen for
the time to the music of a miserere, whose jarring chords have
fretted the heartstrings of such as Lee and his comrades into

THE NEW SOUTH. 13

death. It may well happen that after the fashion of the mimip
stage, the next rise of the curtain may be accompanied by the
garish lights of a deceitful joy, the blood stains of the recent
tragedy covered with fresh saw dust, and the new actors ush-
ered in with a burst of gay melody. But the other acts are to
follow. May they not be tragic also?

That 'popular suffrage does not now really govern this coun-
try, that it is notoriously a marketable commodity, that the
United States have really ceased already to be what they pre-
tend, a federation of republican States, no clear sighted man
doubts. Under a thin veil of radical democracy, the govern-
ment has already become an oligarchy. Are not State conven-
tions traded off by the magnates as openly as blocks of rail-
road bonds? Are not legislatures bought as really and almost
as openly as cargoes of corn? Are not "corners" made in poli-
tics by which the weaker capitalists are sold out, as really as
in the pork market? It is Washington or Wall Street which
really dictates what platforms shall be set forth, and what can-
didates elected and what appointments made, not the people of
the States. Some of you may have heard of the incident which
happened in our neighboring town, in that year when our South-
ern conservatives, in their wisdom, made Horace Greeley their
standard-bearer, hoping, it seems, like the superstitious Jews,
to "cast out devils through Beelzebub, the chief of the devils" ;
to retrieve the cause of order and right through the arch in-
cendiary and agitator of the country. Several hopeful souls
were arguing his success from the 'many signs of his acceptance
with the people. It was said, whole radical towns, whole Union
Leagues rn the northwest were coming over to Greeley. A
sagacious banker standing by quietly shook his head. Our
friends, almost vexed at his skepticism, asked: "Why? do not
all these accessions, with the Southern support, promise him
success?" His answer was: "Gentlemen, I do business in
Wall Street, and Wall Street does not want Greeley." And so
the country did not have Greeley, and Greeley did not have the
presidency he coveted, but went aside to die of chagrin.

So Wall Street saw in the third term imperialism thinly
masked, and as its oligarchs preferred to be masters them-
selves, rather than have Grant their master and ours, Wall

14 THK NEW SOtTTH.

Street sent to Chicago and nominated Garfield as its convenient
lay-figure. But having carried its main point it really cared
very little about the choice between him and Hancock, and fo^r
a time did not trouble itself. So the people were about to elect
Hancock. But one fine morning this simple minded "beefeater"
perpetrated the faux pas of endorsing the greenback victory in
Maine. And now that Wall Street saw that the Hancock regime
was committed to "soft money," it did trouble itself, and woke
up and put its hand to the canvass. It would none of Hancock
and his soft money, and so the people could not have Hancock
nor he have the presidency.

Obviously the government now ascendant in the country
while "Republican" in name and ultra -democratic in theory, is
an oligarchy in fact. Extremes often thus meet. Nothing can
be more fallacious than that view, advanced by some of our
conciliatory statesmen, which represents the recent revolutions
as only a temporary excitement and partial fit of excess from
which the institutions of the country will re-act under prudent
management and regain their old constitutional status. There
will be no re-action in that sense. The morbid causes which
were so potent to overthrow will yet more certainly be power-
ful enough to resist and suppress the weak efforts of a crip-
pled, prostrate constitution. The obstacles between us and a
return to past precedents are too mountainous. Consider for
instance, that "spoils system," now strong with a generation's
growth. If it is to be perpetrated, this of itself makes popular
consHtjitional government impossible. For every intelligent
man sees that it converts office-holders from servants of the peo-
ple to paid agents for circumventing the people's will at the
polls, paid with the money of the people they help to enslave.
This is the very signature of despotism, that the citizen's
money is taken to bribe agents for suppressing the citizen's
will. Under this system the office-holders are the pretorian co-
horts of the usurper.

But let one think out now the conditions essential to the
realizing of that "civil service reform," which each party pre-
tends to promise, but which neither party purposes, as the ap-
propriate remedy for the spoils system. One of the requisite
conditions is that one of these parties upon ousting the other

THE NBW SOUTH. ] f5

from power shall exercise the self-denial and magnanimity to
leave all their rival's appointees, except those expressly piin-
ishable for oflScial malfeasance, undisturbed in their offices and
salaries. For if the victorious party is to signalize its acces-
sion, won, we will suppose, on the promise of civil service re-
form, by expelling all the office-holders of the opposite and de-
feated party, this will not be to inaugurate the wholesome
remedy, but only to repeat the a'buse. And thus they would
more than ever ensure at the next turn of the wheel of fortune
that their reinstated rivals would imitate their vindicative ex-
ample, turn out all their new appointees and again postpone
the happy change. Let us suppose,' for example, that the peo-
ple should again elect a conservative President and that he
should not, like poor Mr. Tilden, submit at the bidding of Wall
Street to the robbery of himself and the people of America, but
should be inaugurated ; shall he magnaaimously leave every ap-
pointee, though, an agent or a tool of the present spoils system;
undisturbed? Then there is no official reward for his support-
ers who have toiled for his election. They must have worked
for naught but an idea, a prompting of pure patriotism. Whence
is the money to come to wage the campaign when all will have
been notified in advance that there will be no way for them to
repay themselves out of the public crib? It is well known that
a national campaign now costs as much as a military one, and
that money is to it as essential as "the sinews of war." Does
any party in America possess this lofty patriotism^? Will eith-
er party thus work for nothing? But let us suppose that the
incoming conservative shall make a pretext that the office-hold-
ers he finds in place have been there as "spoils-men," and turn
them out to make room for his supporters; then the inevitable
result is that the opposing party will denounce him as a traitor
to his own civil service reform, and devote themselves to retalia-
tion. Such are the obstacles which beset the abatement of this
peril in America. "Canst thou draw o-nt Leviathan with a
hook, or his tongue with a oord which thou lettest down? Canst
thou put a hook into his nose?"

Such are the fatal influences which obstruct all return and
ensure the progress of the revolution. There is a new era and
hence there must be a "New South."

16 THE NEW 80DTH.

What manner of thing shall it bef To prognosticate or
prophecy is not the proper part for us to play who fell with
the old South. For us a more modest part is appropriate. We
shall claim our prerogative forever of defending our own prin-
ciples, which a decadent country has pronounced too elevated
for it to tolerate, and of consulting our own self-respect. Jus-
tice to you requires that we shall leave you to guide your own
destiny in that new and untried sea into which you are launch-
ing.

But there are some principles which we may safely incul-
cate on you, because whatever else may change these cannot
change. The glory of our old independence and its history, the
beneficence of the confederate principles of our old constitu-
tion, concurred to teach us an exalted, perhaps an overwean
ing appreciation of the value of such political institutions. But
we do not forget that other people have had other forms ot
government, aristocratic or regal, and under them have had
their share of the domestic virtues, of patriotism, of civilization,
of Christianity. (But under the illicit and dirty oligarchy of
which our present regime is a virtual specimen, no people has
ever had or can ever have anything but corruption, ignominy
and vice.) Ourbestprayer for you is, that out of the present foul
transition, a good Providence may cause some new order to
arise tolerable for honest men. The changes implied in the in-
troduction of this new order may be accepted by the old con-
federates as old age, as infirmity, or as a not distant death.
They must be accepted by me as the inevitable. But the prin-
ciples of truth and righteousness are as eternal as their divine
legislator. These must be upheld under all dynasties and forms.
Here, in one word, is the safe pole-star for the "New South";
let them adopt the scriptural politics, assured that they will
ever be as true and just under any new regime as under the
one that has passed away: "That righteousness' exalteth a
nation, but sin is a reproach to any people." That "wisdom and
knowledge shall be the stability of thy times, and strength of
salvation ; the fear of the Lord is His treasure." That "he that
walketh righteously and speaketh uprightly; he that despiseth
the gain of oppressions, that shaketh his hands from holding
of bribes, that stoppeth his ears from hearing of blood, and

THE NEW 80DTH. 17

shutteth his eyes from beholding evil; he shall dwell on high;
his place of defense shall be the munitions of rocks."

Some of the applications of these unchanging principles
are obvious to experience guided by truth. Permit me briefly
to unfold three of these to you, which are shown to be timely
and momentous by the special temptations to which a subju-
gated people are exposed while passing of necessity under a
new and conquering system. One of these plausible temipta-
tions is to conclude that the surest way to retrieve your pros-
perity will be to BECOME LIKE THE CONQUERORS. This is an in-
ference as false as it is specious ; the fact that your fathers are
conquered may ground a good inference perhaps, that you
should seek to be in some respect' unlike us. May you be un-
like us in being more fortunate ! But a very brief oibeervation
of history will teach you that violent aggressors, in overthrow-
ing their rivals, also usually prepare their own overthrow. TPheir
calajnities are only postjwned to the second place. The Jacob-
ins overthrew Louis XVI., but Bonaparte crushed the Jacobins,
and Europe crushed Napoleon. Shall this be the best reparation
for the miseries of the fall of the Confederacy; that you shall
share, for a few deceitful days, the victors' gains of oppression,
to be overwhelmed along with him in his ap>proaching retribu-
tion? Be sure of one thing, "his curses will come home to
roost." In order to escape the fearful reckoning, you must
not only make yourselves unlike as but unlike them.

"The North triumphed by its wealth." Here is the tempta-
tion to the New South, to which I already see ominous sympt-
oms of yielding, to make wealth the idol, the all in all of sec-
tional greatness. I hear our young men quote to each other
the advice of the wily diplomat Grorstchacoff, to the beaten
French: "Be strong." They exclaim: Let us develope! de-
velope! develope! Let us have, like our conquerors, great
cities, great capitalists, great factories and commerce and
gieat populations ; then we shall cope with them.

Now here is a path which will require of you the nicest dis-
crimination, and the most perspicacious virtue and self-denial.
On the one hand it is indisputable that under our modern, ma-
terial civilization, wealth is an essential element of national
greatness. The commonwealth which presents a sparse and

18 THE NEW SOTTTH.

imipoverished population, in competition with a rich and popu-
lous rival, will come 'by the worse in spite of her martial vir-
tues,; and may make her axioount to be dependent and subordin-
ate. Hence to develope the South is one of the plainest duties
of patriotism. To increase its riches is one way to increase its
power of self-protection. And a knowledge, and hardy, dili-
gent practice of the industries of prDduction are among the
civic virtues which it behooves the New South to cultivate. So
much is to be asserted on that side.

But on the other side the deduction that all our section has
to do is to imitate the conquering section in that one of its
qualities by which it got wealth; to make the appliances of
production the all in all; to exclaim aa so many do of factories,
and mines, and banks, and sto<;k boards, and horse-powers of
steam, and patent machines, "These be thy gods, O Israel!"
This would be a deadly mistake. Does not history teach that
"wealth is the sinews of war?" yes, not seldom; but it teaches
at least as often that wealth and material civilization have
been the emasoulators of natiDns and the incitements of their
enemies at once, only ensuring the deeper destruction for the
rich and cultivated people. Our own overthrow is near at
hand to teach us this lesson, for we were the richer section sub-
jugated by the po3rer, which was shrewd enough to hie on the
pauper proletaries of a hungry world upon our wealth as their
prey. Do some of you exclaim: "What, the South the richer
section?" Very likely many of you are already so indoctrinated
in that "tuition of lies,- against which I shall have to caution you
anon, that this will be news to you. Nevertheless is it true:
the South was by one-quarter if not 3ne-third, the richer sec-
tion, as was proved by the stubborn evidence of the census re-
turns of the government itself, as managed by our enemies.

The wisdom of the New South, then, must be in pursuing
the sharp line which divides the neglect from the idolatry of
riches. If they be pursued as an end Instead of a means, they
become your ruin instead of your deliverance. If riches when
acquired are employed to enervate your manhood with costly
pomps and luxuries instead of being consecrated to the noble
uses of charity and public spirit, the richer the New South be-
comes the weaker she will be. The problem you have to learn

THK NJOW 80TJTH. 19

is how to combine the possession of great wealth with the per-
sonal practice of simplicity, hardihood and self-sacriflce. That
people which makes selfish, material good Its God, Is doomed.
In this world of sin the spirit of heroic self-sacrifice is the es-
sential condition of national greatness and happiness. The
only sure wealth of the State is in cultured, heroic men, who
intelligently know their duty and are calmly prepared to sac-
rifice all else, including life, to maintain the right. Well then
did the President of the Oonfederacy utter these golden words,
that "the spirit of self-sacrifioe is the crown of the civic vir-
tues." I know that there is a generation, "O, how lofty are
their eyes and their eyelids lifted up," who hoast that their
cuteness is in pursuing the "main chance," and who flout this
virtue of disinterestedness as a weak folly; and yet for lack of
this virtue their prosperity is ever perishing and their material
civilization is ever, like the tawdry pyrotechnics of some popu-
lar feast, burning out its own splendors into ashes, darkness
and a villainous stench of brimstone. The New South then
needs wealth, hut it also needs men, high-minded men, unde-
hauched by wealth, who, like the "high privates" of the Con-
federate ranks, shall know bow to postpone ease and the de-
lights of culture for the invincible endurance of hardship and
danger.

2. Subjugation presents to the honorable conquered man
another alternative of temptations. The one is that of moral
disgust, pnompting him to turn with proud disdain from all
concern with public affairs, and wrap himself like a hermit in
the folds of his own self-respect. It is to the best natures that
this is most alluring;. bow attractive is the thought of thus eas-
ing one's infinite disgusts? How plausible the argument wliich
says: Let those wbo have by fraud or force usurped the helm
bear the responsibility of wrecking the ship. But the error of
tins resort is that it neglects the claims of patriotism and robs
the State, in the moment of her need, of the virtues and facul-
ties most essential to her deliverance. These unbending spirits
who cannot be reconciled to disgrace are the very ones that
can now be least spared. To conquer the burning repugnance
to all the loathsome incidents of misconception, slimy slander,
corruption and ingratitude with which one must meet in serv-

So THK NEW SOUTH.

ing a state under the eclipse of subjugation, this may be a
cross as bitter, as death. But how many of our noblest and
best have already borne the cross of death in the same cause?

The alternative temptation is yet more seductive to the
more supple temperament. This is to exaggerate and pervert
the plea of acquiescence in the inevitable ; to cry, "Oh there is
no use nor sense in contending against fate," and on this ar-
gument to act the trimmer and turncoat. How much easier is
this to the pliable temper? And it may be, how ppofltable to
the pocket. It is so sweet a relief to the lassitude which such
a mind experiences at being ever in the self-respecting the
righteous and the unsuccessful minority. Ah, how tiresome is
it to such a man to hold up the standard of principle when it is
unsustained by the breeze of popularity! Poor soul, how his
arms ache, and how do they crave rest in the arms of the cor-
rupt majority.

But even by the light of that policy, which such men make
their pole-star, it would be better, while recognizing the in-
evitable, still to cleave to moral consistency and principle. For
I surmise that when you seek a market for your capacities in
the forum of the new regime, its managers will tell you that
turncoats are decidedly a drug in that market. The demand is
utteriy overstocked, the market glutted. It is the men who
have convictions and who cleave to them, who are the article
in demand; in demand even with political adversaries, who,
themselves, have no principles. For such men, however venal,
soon learn the truth that the turncoat who could not be trusted
to cleave to his principles, can as little be trusted to stick to
the master who has bought him.

3. It behooves the New South, in dismissing the animosi-
ties' of the past, to see to it that they retain all that was true
in its principles or ennobling in its example. There are those
pretending to belong to this company who exclaim: "Let us
bury the dead past. Its issues are all antiquated, and of no
more practical significance. Let us forget the passions of the
past. We are in a new worid. Its new questions alone concern
us." I rejoin: Be sure that the former issues are really dead
before you bury them! There are issues which cannot die
without the death of the people, of their honor, their civiliza-

THE NEW SOUTH. 21

tion and their greatness. Take care that you do not bury too
much, while burying the dead past: that you do not hury the
iaspiring memories of great patriots, whose actions, whether
successful or not, are the eternal glory of your race and section;
the influence of their virtues, the guiding precedents of their
histories. Will you bury. the names and memories of a Jackson
and Lee, and their noble army of martyrs? Will you hury true
history whose years are those of the Grod of Truth?

There is onie point on which you insist too little, which is
vital to the young citizens of the South. This is, that he shall
not allow the dominant party to teach him a perverted history
of the past contests. This is a mistake of which you are in im-
minent peril. With all the astute activity of their race, our
conquerors strain every nerve to pre-occupy the ears of all
America with the false version of affairs which suits the pur-
poses of their usurpation. With a gigantic sweep of mendacity,
this literature aims to falsify or misrepresent everything; the
very facts of history, the principles of the former Constitution
as admitted in the days of freedom by all statesmen of all par-
ties; the characters and motives of our patriots; the purposes
of parties ; the very essential names of rights and virtues and
vices. The whole sway of their commercial and political ascen-
dancy is exerted to fill the South with this false literature. Its
sheets come up, like the frogs of Egypt, into our houses, our
hed chambers, our very kneading troughs. Now, against this
deluge of perversions I solemnly warn young men of the South,
not for our sakes, but for their own. Even if the memory of
the defeated had no rights; if historical truth had no preroga-
tives; if it were the same to you that the sires whose blood fills
your veins, and whose names you bear, he written dow^ as
traitors hy the pen of slanderous history, still it is essential to
your own future that you shall learn the history of the past
truly. For the institutions which are to be, however unlike
those which have heen, must have a causal relation to them:
must be in some sense the progeny of them. The chrysalis is
very unlike its progeny, but none the less its traits determine
those of the gorgeous butterfly. The acorn is not like a tree,
yet its species determines the shape and qualities of the mon-
arch Of the forest. To-morrow's configuration of the planets

22 TrtK NEW SOUTH.

may be very dissimilar from that of to-day, but it will be vigid-
ly consequential thereon. Hence the astronomer who miscon-
ceives and misstates the positions of the orbs to-day, must in-
evitably err in his prediction of their conjunctions to-morrow.
So if public men will gratify their spite, or revenge, or lust of
sectional power by misrepresenting the late events, they there-
by condemn themselves ta fatal blunderings and mistakes in
prognosticating that future which can only be the caused se-
quel lo this. If you would not be mere blunderers in your new
constructions, then you must understand aright the structure
of those recent actions on which they must faund themselves.
You will seek to learn them, not from a Greeley or a Henry
Wilson, but from a Stephens and a Davis. While you do not
allow your judgment to be hoodwinked by even the possible ex-
aggerations of our own patriots, still less will you yield your
minds to the malignant fables of those partisans whp think
they can construct history as unscrupulously as a political ring.
Our age presents the strange instance of a numerous party,
who think they can circumvent the resistless forces of truth by
systematically misnaming facts and fallacies, who are deliber-
ately building a whole system of empire on the substitution of
light for darkness and darkness for light, of good for evil and
evil for good, calling that master in our government which was
servant, that patriotism which was treason, and that treason
which was true, law-preserving patriotism, and that aggres-
sion which was righteous defense. If you wish to be buried
deeper* than thrice buried Troy beneath the final mountains of
both defeat and shame, go with these architects of detraction.
They are but arraying themselves against that unchangeable
God who has said: "The lying tongue is but for a moment, but
the lip of truth shall be established forever."

I have admitted, young gentlemen, that constitutions and
laws may change, but honor, justice and right are immutable.
Be loyal to these in all novel emergencies, and you will act
safely. If this virtue, the foundation of all the civic, exists in
you, it will, it must manifest itself most plainly in reverence
and enthusiasm for the heroic and the self-sacrificing of your
own people and State. Their actions have placed the right be-
fore you incorporate, with all the definiteness of outline and

THE NEW SOUTH. 23

vividness of coloring which belong to concrete realities. Their
actions concern your hearts by virtue of all the ties of neighbor-
hood and patriotism. As long as the hearts of the New South
thrill with the generous though defeated endurance of the men
of 1861 ; as long as they cherish these martyrs of constitutional
liberty as the glory of their State and its history, you will be
safe from any base decadence. If the generation that Is to
come ever learns to be ashamed of these men because they were
overpowered by fate, that will be the moral death of Virginia,
a death on which there will wait no resurrection. But I do not
fear this.

I recall what my own eyes witnessed at the last great civic
pomp in which I was present. This was the installment of that
statue of Jackson near our State capitol, which Virginia re-
ceived as the tribute of British statesmanship and culture to
her illustrious dead. At this ceremonial there were gathered
almost the whole intelligence and beauty of what was left of
the old commonwealth. As the long procession wound througli
the streets marshaled and headed by General Joseph E. John-
ston, under the mild glory of our October sun, while the at-
mosphere was palpitating with military music and the whole
city was gone upon its house-tops, it was easy to perceive that
all eyes and all hearts were centering upon one sole part of the
pageant, and this was not the illustrious figure that headed it,
the commander in so many historical battles, bestriding his
charger with his inimitable martial grace; nor was it the clus-
ter containing the remnant of Jackson's staff. We might have
supposed that we would receive some reflected distinction from
the luminary to which we had been satellites so near, and that
some romantic curiosity might direct itself to those who had
habitually seen him under fire, heard, and borne those orders
which had decided memorable victories, and bivouacked under
the same blanket with him; but no eye sought us^ Then came
hobbling a company of two hundred and thirty grizzled imen
with empty sleeves, and wooden legs, and scarred faces, and
hands twisted into every distortion which the fiery fancy of the
rifle-ball could invent, clad in the rough garb of a laboring
yeomanry, their faces bronzed with homely toil; this was th§
company for which every eye waited, and as it passed the

24 THE NEW SOUTH.

mighty throng was moved as the trees of the forest are moved
by the wind, the multitudinous white arms waved their superb
welcome, and the thundering cheer rolled with the column from
end to end of the great city. It was the remnant of the Stone-
wall Brigade! That was the explanation. This was the tribute
which the sons, the daughters, the mothers of Virginia paid
to sturdy heroism in defeat And as I saw this my heart said
with an exultant bound, "There is life in the old land yet!"

TO MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD/

Chief of the Freedmen's Bureau, WasMniiton.

Sir: Your high official trust makes you, in a certain sense,
the representative man of the North, as concerns their dealing
with the African race in these United States. It is as such that
I venture to address you, and through you all your fellow
citizens on behalf of this recently liberated people. My jmr-
pose is humbly to remind you of your weighty charge, and to
encourage you to go forward with an enlarged philanthropy
and zeal in that career of beneficence toward the African which
Providence has opened before you. Rarely has it fallen to the
lot of one of the sons of men to receive a larger trust, or to en-
joy a wider opportunity for doing good. At the beginhing of
the late war there were in the South nearly four millions of
Africans. All these, a nation in numbers, now taken from
their former guardians, are laid upon the hands of that govern-
ment of which you are the special agent for their protection
and guidance. To this nation of black people you are virtually
father and king; your powers for their management are unlimit-
ed, and for assisting their need^ you have the resources of the
"greatest people on earth." Your action for the freedmen's
good is restrained by no constitutiDn or precedents, but the
powers you exercise for them are as full as your office is novel.
We see evidence of this in the fact that your agents, acting for
the good of your charge, can seize by military arrest any one of
their fellow-citizens of African descent, for no other offense
than being unemployed, convey him without his consent, and
without the company of his wife and family, tD a distant field
of industry, where he is compelled to wholeso'me labor for such
remuneration as you may be pleased to assign. Another evi-
dence is seen in your late order, transferring all causes and in-
dictments in which a freedman is a party, from the CDurts of
law of the Southern States to the bar of your own oommission -

1 Appeared In 2few York Weekly 2fewi, Oct. 21, 1865. 25

26 MAJOK a£N£BAL HOWARD.

ers and sub-commissdoners for adjudication. I beg you to be-
lieve that these instances are not cited by me for the puppDse of
repeating the cavils against the justice and consistency of the
powers exercised in them, in which some have been heard to
indulge. My purpose is not to urge with them that there is no
law by which a free citizen can be rightfully abridged of his
liberty of enjoying the otium cum dignitate so long as he ab-
stains frDui crime or misdemeanor therein, merely because he
wears a black skin, while the same government dioes not pre-
sume to interfere with the exercise of this privilege by his
white fellow-citizens, even though they be those lately in rebel-
lion against it; that this military arrest and transferrence to
the useful though distant scene of compulsory labor, is precise-
ly that penalty of "transportation" which Southern laws never
inflicted, even on the slave, except 'for crime and after judicial
investigation; that these commissioners for adjudicatyig cases
to which freedmen are parties, are in reality judges at law, ap-
pointed by you, for every city and county in eleven States, and
empowered to sit without jury, and to decide without regard to
the precedents or statutes of the States; which would exhibit
your bureau as not only an executive, but a judicial branch of
the government, established without constitutional authority,
and thaf a hundred fold more pervasive in its jurisdiction than
the Supreme Court iteelf; and that this "order" has, by one
stroke of your potent pen, deprived eight millions of white
people of the right of a trial by jury, guaranteed to them by
the sixth and seventh additional articles of the United States
Constitution, in every case where a freedtnan happens to be a
party against them. I repeat, that I have not adduced these
instances for the purpose of urging these or such like objec-
tions; (it does not become the subject to cavil against the pow-
ers exercised by his conquerors), but only to impress you with
the obligation, which the fullness of your powers brings upon
you, to do good to your charge upon a great scale.

I cannot believe that means will be lacking to you any
more than powers. At your back stands the great, the power-
ful, the rich, the prosperous, the philanthropic, the Christian
North, friend and liberator of the black man. It must be as-
sumed that the zeal which waged a gigantic war for four years,

MAJOB GENERAL HOWARD. 27

which expended three thousand million of dollars, and one mil-
lion of lives, in large part to free the African, will be willing to
lavish anything else which may be needed for his welfare. And
if the will is present, the ability is no less abundant among a
people so wealthy and powerful, who exhibit the unprecedented
spectacle of an emersion from a war which would have been
exhausting to any other people with resources larger than
when they began it, and who have found out (what all previous
statesmen deemed an impossibility), that the public wealth
may be actually increased by unproductive consumption. With
full powers and means to do everything for the African, what
may he not expect from your guardianship?

The answer which a generous and humane heart would
make to this question, must of course be this: that it would seek
to do for the good of its charge everything which is possible.
But more definitely I wish to remind you that there is a mini-
mum limit, which the circumstances of the case forbid you to
touch. Common sense, common justice says: that the very
least you can do for them must be more than the South has
accomplished, from whose tutelage they have been taken. To
this measure, at least, if not to some higher, your country, pos-
terity, fame, and the righteous heavens, will rigidly hold you.
The reason is almost too plain to be explained. If a change
procured for the Africans at such a cost brings them no actual
benefit, then that cost is uncompensated, and the expenditure
of human weal which has been made was a blunder and a
crime. Thus it becomes manifest that the measure fot the
task which you have before you, is the work which the South
accomplished for the negro while he was a slave. The ques-
tion, how much was this? is a vital one for you; it gives you
your starting point .from which you must advance in your
career of progressive philanthropy. Listen then.

First, for the physical welfare of the negro the South has
done something. A rapid increase of population and longevity
are a safe index of the prosperous and sane condition of the
bodies of a people. The South has so provided for the wants
of the negro that his numbers have doubled themselves as rap-
idly as those of the whites, with no accessions by immigration.
The census returns show that the South so cared for him that

28 MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD.

the percentage of congenital defects and diseases, these unfail-
ing revealers of a depressed physical condition, idiocy, blind-
ness, deafness, dumbness, hereditary scrofula, and such like
ilki, was as small as among the most prosperous Northern
States. The South gave to her negro men, on an average, a half
pound of baoon and three pounds of breadstuffs per day, be-
sides his share in the products of his master's l£itchen-garden,
dairy and orchard; and to the women and children at a rate
equally liberal. If, in siome neighborhoods, the supply was
less bountiful than the above, there were a hundred fold more
in which it was even more abundant. The South gave to every
negro, great and small, a pair of shoes every winter, and to the
laboring men an additional pair at harvest. She clothed them
all with a substantial suit of woolens every winter, an addition-
al suit of cotton or flax! each summer, and two shirts and two
pair of socks per year, while the adults drew their hat and
blanket each. She furnished each negro family with a sepa-
rate cottage or cabin, and, during the severe weather, with
about one-third of a cord of wood per day, to keep up those lib-
eral fires on which his health and life so much depend. She
provided, universally, such relief for his sickness that every
case of serious disease was attended by a physician with nearly
the same promptitude and frequency as the cases of the plan-
ters' own wives and daughters; and in all the land never was
a negro fastened to his bed by illness but he received the per-
sonal, sympathizing visits of some intelligent white person be-
sides; master, mistress or their agent, who never went to his
oouch empty-handed. His dead universally received decent
and Christian burial, where the bereaved survivors were sooth-
ed by the offices of Christianity. The South so shielded the
negro against destitution, that from the Potomac to the Gulf,
not one negro pauper was ever seen, unless he were free, and
not one African poorhouse existed or was needed. Her system
secured for every slave, male or female, a legal claim upon the
whole property, income, and personal labor of his master, for a
comfortable maintenance during any season of infirmity
brought upon him by old age, the visitation of God, or his own
imprudence, however protracted that season might be: a claim
so sure and definite that it could be pursued by an action at law

MAJOR GBNEBAL HOWARD. 29

upon the slave's behalf; a claim so universally enforced and ac-
quiesced in, that its neglect, or the death of a helpless slave
through destitution, was as completely unknown among us as
cannibalism. The South met that claim, which the free labor-
ing men of other lands have so often had sorrowful occasion to
argue, amid pallid famine, and with the fearful logic of insur-
rections and bloodshed, the claim of "the right to labor," and
has met it so successfully that she has secured to every African
slave capable of labor, without even one exception among all
her millions, remunerative Dccupation, at all times, and amid
all financial convulsions and depressions of business. That is,
she has found at all times such occupation for all of them as
has procured for them, without excessive toil, a decent mainten-
ance during their active years, an adequate and unfailing pro-
vision for old age, a pDrtion for their widows, and a rearing of
their children. The South has so far performed these duties
to the bodies of the Africans that no community of them have
ever, in a single instance, aimid any war, or blight, or drouth,
or dearth, felt the toDth of famine on its vitals, or so much as
seen the wolf, destitution, at its door.

For the culture of the negro's mind and character, the
South has also done something. She has not, indeed, fallen in-
to the hallucination that the only prDcesses of education are
those summed up in the arts of reading and writing — facts
which were not prevalent among those literary dictators of the
ancient world, the compatriots of Pericles and Plato— nor has
she deemed it a likely mode t9 communicate these useful arts
to the ebony youth, to gather three hundred of them into one
pandemonium, under a single overtasked "school-marm" or
bald-pated negro, and dub the seething cauldron of nolle, odu-
fusion and "negro-gen gas," a "primary school." But thou-
sands and tens of thousands has she taught to read (and of-
fered the art to ten-fold more, who declined it frDm their own
indolence), through the gentle and faithful agency of cultivat-
ed young masters and mistresses, a process prohibited, I boldly
assert, qmcunque vult by no law upon the statute-book of my
State, at least. But this tuitiDn, extensive as it has been, is
the merest atom and mite, in the extensive culture which she
has given to the African race. She received them at the hands

30 MAJOS GKNBRAL SOWARD.

oJ: British and Yanliee slave traders, besotted in their prime-
val jungles, for the spontaneous fruits of which they lived in
common. She taught the whole of them some rudiments of
civilization. She taught them all the English language, a gift
which, had they been introduced into the Northern States as
free men, in numbers »o large, they would not have received in
three centuries. She taught all of them some arts ol useful la-
bor, and as large a portion of them as any other peasantry learn-
ed the mechanical arts. With the comparatively small excep-
tion of the negroes upon large estates, belonging to non-resi-
dent owners, the South has placed every negro boy and girl,
during his or her growth, under the forming influence of white
men and ladies, by whom they have been taught some little
tinctures of the cleanliness, the decencies, the chastity, the
truthfulness, the self-respect, so utterly alien to their former
savage condition, and a share of courtesy and good breeding
which would not disgrace any civilized people. Of the young
negresses, who would otherwise have grown up the besotted
victims of brutal passions, the great majority have been, at
some stage of their training, introduced by the South to the
parlors and chambers of their women, from whom they have
learned to revere and imitate, to some degree, that grace and
purity, that sweet humanity and delicacy of sentiment which
glorify the Southern lady above all her sex; and under her
watchful and kindly eye, has her dark-skinned sister been
taught the agencies and domestic arts which make woman a
■blessing in her home. The boys and youths, by the same in-
fluences, have become the humble, yet affectionate, compan-
ions of their masters, and have imbibed some of their intelli-
gence and principle. Herein was the great educational work
of the South, potent and persuasive as it was simple. By her
S3'stem, every man and woman of the superior race, yea, every
child, was enlisted in the work of the culture of the inferior,
and the whole business of domestic life was converted, by inter-
est and affection alike, into a schooling of the mind and char-
acter.

This culture has been so far successful that the African
race, lately rude savages, was raised to such a grade that, ac-
cording to high military authority in the United States, they

MAJOR GBNERAL HOWARD. 31

were fit to make armies as efficient as those recruited in the
"great, free and enlightened North" ; and in the judgment of a
powerful party in that country (a party which embraces the
major part of that particular oorner which has the prescrip-
tive right of knowing everything), they have been made, under
Stouthern tutelage, fully equal to the rights and duties of voters
and rulers, in the most CDmplicated of governments. Now,
feeling that it does not become a subject of that government,
one recently conquered by the great North, to dispute its dicta
on these points, I shall of course assume that they are correct.
Here, then, is what the South has done for the development of
the negro's mind.

Nor has our section neglected that noblest and highest in-
terest of all races, the spiritual interest of the negro. She has
diffused among the blacks a pure gospel. She gave him the
Christiac Sabbath, and fortified the gift with laws and penal-
ties, capable of being executed in his behalf against his own
master — laws so efficacious that enforced Sabbath labor was
almost utterly unknown to him. She gave him a part in every
house of WDrship built throughout her border (for never have
I heard of one church in all these States where the slaves were
nDt admitted along with their masters), besides building more
temples for his exclusive use than the Christianity of the North
has built for Pagans, in all Hindostan and China together. She
has given him evangelical preaching, unmingled with the poi-
son of Universalism, Millerism, Socinianism, Mormonism, or
with the foreign and disastrous element of politics. For nearly
all the church-members of this people are connected with the
great orthodox and evangelical denominations; and having
'been a preacher to Africans fDr twenty years, I have never yet
heard a sermon addressed to them, or heard of the man who
had heard it, in which the subject of abolition or pro-slavery
was obtruded on their attention by a Southern minister. lu
one word, the South has so far cared for their sduIs as to bring
five hundred thousand of them into the full communion of the
church, thus making them at least outward and professed
Christians — a ratio as large as that prevailing among the whites
of the great. Christian North.

These facts concerning the work of the South for the

32 MAJOR GBNERAL HOWARD.

slaves, I give without the fear of contradiction. The son of a
slaveholder, an owner of slaves by inheritance, reared and ed-
ucated among them, laboring for them and their masters all
my professional life, I know whereof I affirm. Every intelli-
gent citizen of the South will substantiate these statements,
as within the limits of moderation, and as only a part of those
which might be made.

When I claim that the South did thus much for the Afri-
cans, I am far from boasting. We ought to have done much
more. Instead of pointing to it with self-laudation, it becomes
us, with profound humility towards God, to confess our short-
comings towards our servants. He has been pleased, in His
sovereign and fearful dispensation, to lay upon us a grievous
affliction, and we know He is too just to do this except for our
sins. While I am as certain as the sure word of Scripture can
make me concerning any principle of social duty, that there
was nothing sinful in the relation of master and slave itself, I
can easily believe that our failure to fulfill some of the duties
of that righteous relation is among the sins for which God's
hand now makes us smart. And it does not become those who
are under His discipline to boast of their good works. No;
verily we have sinned; my argument is that you must do more
for the negro than we sinners of the South have done.

[ have written wittingly the words, j/ou must do it for
them. The South cannot. Your people have effectually dis-
abled them therefor. They have done so by taking away our
wealih. The South is almost utterly impoverished, and Is able
to do little more than to keep destitution from her own doors.
But a more conclusive reason is the alienation which the armed
and clerical missionaries of the North have inculcated in the
breasts of these people, lately so affectionate and contented.
The negroes have been diligently taught that their imasters
were their enemies and oppressors, that their bondage was
wicked and destructive of their well-being, and especially that
(he religious teachings of all Southern ministers were "doc-
trines of devils," because they would not shout the shibboleth
of abolition. The consequence is that the black race will no
longer listen to the Southern people, or be guided by them.
Take as evidence my own instance, which I cite precisely for

the reason that it is not in the least i)eculiar, but reflects the
common experience of all ministers and people here. Before
the advent of your armies, plantation meetings were held week-
ly in the different quarters of the congregation, on Saturdays,
in worliing time, cheerfully surrendered by the masters for that
purpose, which brought religious instruction witUn two or
three miles of every house. They are now all at an end. Six
years ago my congregation pulled down the substantial house,
built by their fathers only thirty years before, with walls as
solid aa living rocks, which was entirely adequate to hold the
whites, and replaced it by a larger. One prominent reason was
that it was not large enough to hold the servants also. They
constructed in the new house three hundred commodious sit-
tings exclusively for the blacks. Last Sabbath, under a bright
and cheerful sun, those sittings were occupied during public
worsUp by precisely three persona; and at the afternoon serv-
ice, held in a chapel-of-ease, primarily for the blacks, there was
not one present. Thus the North has prevented the South from
doing its former work for the good of the African; consequent-
ly it must make its account to do it all itself.

But while I assert this, I would bear my emphatic testi-
mony against the falsehood and injustice of the charge that
the Southern people wish to cast off and ruin the negro, in a
spirit of pique and revenge for his emancipation. That they
regard this measure as neither just nor wise, is, perfectly true.
But they have promised to acquiesce in it as a condition of
peace; that promise they intend faithfully to keep; and they
universally regard slavery as finally at an end. There is noth-
ing more manifest than that the North, amid the flame and heat
of all its animosities, knows and fe6ls that this people will not
be the one to break its new covenant, hard as its conditions
are; and that the freedom of the late slaves and the authority
which has dictated it are secured from attack by us. And I
boldly testify that this magnanimous people has not voluntarily
withdrawn its humane interest from the blacks; that it ear-
nestly desires their prosperity; that it wishes to give them em-
ployment and opportunity, and to co-operate in their mainten-
ance as far as possible; that they do not cast off the negroes,
but it is the negroes who cast them off. Yea, the people of

34 MAJOR GBNEBAL HOWARD.

the South are this day ex tending. to tens of thousands of black
families a generous sympathy in the midst of their own heavy
losses and' deep poverty, which we challenge the Christian
world to. surpass in its splendid philanthropy: in that we still
refuse tocast off those families, although, by reason of the in-
cumbrance of old persons, sick, and little children, their pres-
ent labor is worsfe than worthless to us, and we know we shall
receive no future recompense in the labor of the children we
are thus rearing grdtis for other men as independent of us in
future as we are of them. And this is done (oftentimes in spite
of a present requital of insolence, misconception, ingratitude
and a petty warfare of thefts and injuries) by Southern gentle-
men and ladies, who appropriate thereto a part of the avails of
their o'wn personal labors, undertaken to procure subsistence
for their own children. And this is done, not in a few excep-
tional cases, but in a multitude of cases, in every neighljor-
hood of eVery county, so that the numbers of destitute f reed-
men under which the able hands of your Bureau now faint, are
not a tithe of those who are still maintained by the impover-
ished people of the South. . And this is done simply because
humanity makes us unwilling to thrust out those for whose
happiness we have so long been accustomed to care into the
hardships of their new and untried future. And unless yon
can expect this delicate sentiment to exhibit a permanence
which would be almost miraculous under the "wear and tear"
of our-futUr^ poverty, I forewarn you that you must stand pre-
pared for a tenf Did increase of your present responsibilities,
when these' families are committed to you. That tenfold bur-
den you must learn to bear successfully.

Having shown you the starting point of that career of
beneficence to the African, from which you are solemnly bound
to God and history to advance, I now return to strengthen the
already irresistible argument of that obligation. If the South,
with all its disadvantages, has done this modicum of good to
this poor people, the North, their present guardians, with their
vast advantages, must do far more. The South was the infer-
ior section (so the North told us) in number, in wealth, in prog-
ress, in intelligence, in education, in religion. The South (so
the North says) held the Africans under an antiquated, unright-

itkiOK GENERAL HOWARD. 35

eous and mischievous relation — that of domestic slavery. The
North now has them on the new footing, which is, of course,
precisely the right one. The South was their oppressor; the
North is their generous liberator. The South was hagridden
in all its energies for good (so we were instructed) by the "bar-
barism of slavery"; the North contains the most civilized, en-
lightened and efficient people on earth. Now, if you do not
surpass our poor performances for the negro with this mighty
contrast in your favor, how mighty will be the just reproba-
tion which will be visited upon you by the common sentiment
of mankind and by the Lord of Hosts? If you do not surpass
our deeds as far as your ipower and greatness surpass ours,
how can you stand at His bar, even beside us sinners? He has
taught us that "a man is accepted according to that which he
hath, and not according to that which he hath not." To this
righteous rule we intend to hold you, as our successors, in the
guardianship of the negro.

If there are any who endeavor to lull your energies in this
work, by saying that the negro, being now a free man, must
take care of himself like other people; that he should be thrown
on his own resources, and that, if he does not provide for his
own well-being, he should be left to suffer, I beseech you, in
the behalf of humxtnity, of justice and of your own good name,
not to hearken to them. I ask you solemnly whether the freed-
men have an "even start" in the race for subsistence with the
other laboring men of the nation, marked as they are by dif-
ference of race and color, obstructed by stubborn prejudices,,
and disqualified (as you hold) for the responsibilities of self-sup-
port, to some extent, by the evil effects of their recent bondagte
upon their character? Is it fair, or right, or merciful to com-
pel Mm to enter the stadium, and leave him to this fierce com-
petition under these grave disadvantages? Again, no peasant-
ry under the sun was ever required or was ever able to siistain
themselves when connected with the soil by no tenure of any
form. Under our system our slaves had the most permanent
and beneficial form of tenancy; for their master's lands were
bound to them by law for furnishing them homes, occupations
and subsistence during the whole continuance of the master's
tenure. But you have ended all this, and Consigned four mil-

36 Major general howabd

lions of people to a oonditlon of homelessness. Will the North
thus make gipsies ot them, and then hold them responsible for
the ruin which is inevitable from such a condition?

But there is another argument equally weighty. By adopt-
ing the unfeeling policy of throwing the negro upon his own
resources, to sink or swim as he may, you run too great a risk
of. verifying the most biting reproaches and objections of your
enemies. They, in case of his failure, will argue thus : "That
the great question in debate between the defenders of slavery
and the, advocates of emancipation was whether the negro was
capable pf self-control: that the former, who professed to be
more intimately acquainted with his character, denied that he
was capable of it, and solemnly warned you of the danger of
his ruin, if he was intrusted with his own direction, in this coun-
try, and that you, in insisting on the experiment in spite of
this warning, assumed the -whole responsibility. Sir, iS the
freedmen should perchance fail to swim successfully, that ar-
gument would be too damaging to you and your people. You
cannot afford to venture upon this risk. You are compelled by
the interests of your own oonsistency and good name, to take
effectual care that the negro shall swim; and that better than
before. In the name of justice, . I remonstrate against your
throwing him off in his present state, by the inexorable fact
that he was translated into it, neither, by us, nor by himself,
but by you alone; for out of that fact proceeds an obligation
upon you, to make your experiment successful, which will
cleavp to you even to the judgment day. And out of that fact
proceeds this farther obligation : that seeing you have persisted,
of your own free will, in making this experiment of his libera-
tion, you and your people are bound to bestow anything or ev-
erything, and to do everything, except sin, to insure that it
shall be, as compared with his previous condition, a blessing
to Mm. For, if you were not willing to do all this, were you
not bound to let him alone? When the shipmaster urges lands-
men to embark in his ship, and venture the perils. of the deep,
he thereby incurs an obligation, if a storm arises, to do every-
thing and risk everything, even to his own life, for the rescue
of his charge. If, then, you and your people should find that
it will require the labors of another million of busy hands, and

MAJOR GENBBAL HOWAED. 37

the expenditure at three thousand millions miore of the national
wealth, to Obviate the evils and dangers arising to the freedtuen
from your experiment upon their previous condition : yea, if to
do this, it is necessary to make the care and maintenance of the
African the sole business and labor of the whole mighty North
you will he bound to do it at this cost.

And I beg you, sir, let no one vainly think to evade this
duty which they owe you in your charge, by saying that per-
haps even so profuse an expenditure as this, for the benefit of
the Africans, would fail of its object; because they hold that
making a prosperous career is one of those things like chewing
their own food, or repenting of their own sins, which people
must do for themselves, or else they are impossible to be done ;
and that so nn amount of help can make the f reedmen pros-
perous as such, without the right putting fort;h of their own
spontaniety. For, do you not see that this plea surrenders you
into the hands of those bitter adversaries, the Pro-Slavery men?
Is this UDt the very thing they said? This was precisely their
argument to show that philanthropy required the Africans in
this country should be kept in a dependent condition. If your
section acquiesces in the failure of your experiment of their
liberation on this ground, what will this be but the admission
of the damning charge that your measure is a blunder and a
crime^ aggravated by the warning so emphatic, which your op-
ponents gave you, and to which you refused to listen?

But I feel bound, as your zealous and faithful supporter in
your humane task, to give you one more caution. The objectors
who watch you with so severe an eye have even a darker sug-
gestion to make than the charge of headstrong rashness and
criminal mistake in your' experiment of emancipation. They
are heard gloomily to insinuate that the ruin of the African
(which they so persistently assert must result from the change)
is not the blunder of the North, but the foreseen and intended
result ! Are you aware of the existence of this frightful inuendo?
It is my duty to reveal it to you, that you may be put upon
your gruard. These stern critics are heard darkly hinting that
they know Northern statesmen and pi'esses who now admit,
with a sardonic shrug, that the black man, deprived of the
benignant shield of domestic servitude, inBBt of course perish

38 MAJOU GENERAL HOWAKD.

like the red man. These critics are heard inferring that the
true meaning of Northern Republicanism and Free Soil is, thai
the white race must be free to shoulder the black race off this
continent, and monopolize the sunny soil, which the God of na-
tions gave the latter as their heritage. They take a sort of grim
pleasure in pointing to the dead infants, which, they say, usual-
ly marked the liberating course of your armies through the
South, in displaying the destitution and mortality which, they
charge, are 'permitted in the vast settlements of freedmen un-
der your care; in insinuating the rumors of oflBcial returns of a
mortality already incurred in the Southwest, made to your gov-
ernment, so hideous that their suppression was a necessity;
and in relating how the jungles which are encroaching upon the
once smiling "coasts" of the Mississippi, in Louisiana, already
envelope the graves of half the black population in that State!
And the terrible inference from all this, which they intimate is,
that the great and powerful North only, permits these disasters
because it intends them; that, not satisfied with the wide do-
main which Providence has assigned to them, they now pretend
to liberate the slave whom they have seen too prosperous under
his domestic servitude, in order to destroy him, and grasp, in
addition, the soil which he has occupied.

Now, sir, it is incumbent on you, that the premises on
which, with so dangerous a plausibility, they ground this tre-
mendous charge, be effectually contradicted by happy and bene-
ficent results. You must refute this monstrous indictment, and
there -is only one way to do it, by actually showing that you
conserve and bless the African race, multiply their numbers,
and confirm their prosperity on the soil, more than we have
done. I repeat, the North must refute it thus. For, of course,
every Northern man, while indignantly denying and abhorriiig
it, admits (what is as plain as the sun at midday) that if the
charge were indeed true, it would convict his people of the
blackest public crime of the nineteenth century; a crime which
would be found to involve every aggravation and every ele-
ment of enormity which the nomenclature of ethics enables us
to describe. It would be the deliberate, calculated, cold-blood-
ed, selfish dedication of an innocent race of four millions to
annihilation; the murder, with malice prepence, of a nation!

MAJOB GENERAL HOWAKD. 39

not by the comparatively merciful process of the royal Hun,
whose maxim was, that "thick grass is cut more easily than
thin," summary massacre; but by the slowly eating cancer of
destitution, degradation, immorality, protracting the long
agony through two or three generations, thus multiplying the
victims who would be permitted to be born only to sin, to suffer
and to perish; and insuring the everlasting perdition of the
soul, along with the body, by cunningly making their own vices
the executi<Miers of the doom. It would include the blackest
guilt of treason being done under the deceitful mask of bene-
faction and by pretended liberators. The unrighteousness of
its motive would concur with its treachery to enhance its guilt
to the most stupendous height ; for upon this interpretation of
the purpose of the North, tliat motive would be, first to weaken
and disable its late adversary, the South, by destroying that
part of the people which was guilty of no sin against you, g,nd
then, by this union of fraud and force, to seize and enjoy the
space which God gave them, and laws and eonstitution guar-
anteed. This, indeed, would 'be the picture which these ac-
cusers would then present of your splendid act, that you came
as a pretended friend and deliverer to the African, gnd while
he embraced you as his benefactor in all his simple confidence
and joy, you thrust your sword through and through his heart,
in order to reach, with a fiesh wound, the hated white- man who
stood behind him, whom you could not otherwise reach. The
deed would receive an additional shade of blackness froqi every
reproach which the North has ever uttered against us fat our
supposed oppression of the black man, from every profession of
your superior humanity toward him — from every assertion of
your superior civilization, light and Christianity, For, is it not
the righteous penalty of the servant who knew the will of his
Divine Master and did it not, to be beaten with many stripes?
If the North should, indeed, after all its claims of the traits
which exalt a people, have this most accursed deed fastened
upon it, then would be fulfilled against it that awful warning
which tbe Son of God thundered against the most boastful of
the abusers of His teachings: "Thou Capernaum, which art
exalted unto heaven, shalt be thrust down to hell." And on the
face of all the earth there has been no people since that doomed

40 MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD.

race wbo said: "His blood be upon us and our children,"
against wbom the voice of impartial history has pronounced
deei)er execrations tban those which would await you. Once
more, oould such a crime be perpetrated and the dire judgments
of Gk)d fail to follow? Could your posterity hope to escape the
fated tread of that divine retribution which hitherto has pur-
sued, with inevitable steps, the crimes of all the nations, from
the primeval East to the farthest West, with the double
scourges of God?

Up, then! honorable Sir: Yea, I would exclaim through
you: Up! thou great. Christian North: cleanse thy skirts from
tbis foul charge; deliver thy children from this fierce indigna-
tion of heaven by tbe splendid liberality and success of your
efforts for the freedmen. Up and silence your accusers, by lift-
ing these Africans, with the strong hand lof your beneficence,
to your own prosperity. Do not listen to tbese boding asser-
tors of the impossibility of the exploit; but so lavish your en-
ligbtened care and labor, and wealth and love, as to compel im-
possibility itself.

Tbe conclusions to which, I trust, you have now oome with
me, are briefly these, that the North is bound by the logic of
events and of its own acts to become the chief guardian and
nurse of the freedmen. That the South is, without its own
fault, disabled from doing more than a very little of this work
in future. That the North must do more for them than the
Soutb ever did, and tbat in the proportion of her own superior-
ity oyer us, as that superiority is asserted by berself, and of
tbe advantage and justice which freedom possesses, according
to her, over slavery, that the North cannot throw on the Afri-
can, unaided, the task of securing his own destiny, nor plead
tbat the attainment of social prosperity is a tbing wbich can-
not be done for those who do not effect it for tbemselves; be-
cause these are just the points which the South urged against
this change and wbich the North denied in insisting upon it,
and because you alone are tbe authors of the change. That
your section bas tbereby incurred a sacred obligation to bestow
on the African a well being higher than that of the state from
wbich you took him, no matter how much it may cost you. And
tbat, if the North fails in this, it confesses itself an enormous
criminal,

MAJOR GSNEBAI. HOWARD. 41

Here, then, is your task, and these are its conditions. There
is no more sincere aid which I can render you in it than to give
you a sober sketch of its real difficulties, and with this I shall
close.

One of your difficulties is in the thriftlessness of the Afri-
cans themselves, and their want of intelligent foreMght; a trait
which was caused, not by domestic servitude, but by the savage
condition from which they were taken, and which we had par-
tially corrected when they were taken out of our hands. (For
tMs is just the character which all savages exhibit, and espec-
ially those of the torrid climes, which know no winter.) Our
system assigned an effectual remedy for the mischievous ef-
fects of this trait by making it the interest and duty of every
slave owner, and of all his adult children and heirs to teach the
servant care and industry, and to guard against his thriftless-
ness. How you are to repair it under your system I, of course,
must not presume to dictate. I will only venture to say that
the correction of it must manifestly require a vast amount of
careful and patient tutelage of a multitude of hands. The cen-
sus returns of 1850 gave the South two hundred and eighty
thousand slave owners. Every one of these, with their wives,
many of their adult children and a multitude of overseers and
agents were interested teachers and guardians of the African,
and many of them exceedingly diligent, and devoted all their
time to this work. Hence it is manifestly a very moderate es-
timate that your bureau must employ in the tutelage and guar-
dianship of these helpless people not less than a quarter of a
million of persons, and as the powerful motive of interest and
property is extinguished they must all be of better average
character than Southern slave owners to do their work as well
without that motive as these did with it. They must be all of
thorough integrity and intelligence.

Another of your difficulties will be found in the enormous
misconceptions which now fill the minds of the freedmen. The
mischief of one of these I have already indicated. It suited
your purposes, during the season of strife, diligently to teach
the negro that the white people of the South were their oip-
pressors and enemies. Well, Mr, they have learned your les-
son effectually, and will not speedily unlearn it. The conse-

42 MAJOK GENERAL HOWARD.

quence is that you have thereby stripped yourself of the aid of
eight millions of white people in your arduous task, and these,
the white people among whom the larger part of the freedmen
still live, among whom alone are to be found pers'ons familiar
with African character, and among whoon alone has there ever
been, or will there ever he an ingenuous personal affection for
individuals of that race. We have lost the ahility to guide,
counsel, or instruct them.

The larger part of them evidently confound liberty with li-
cense; and to them, liherty means living without earning a liv-
ing. Accustomed to see their masters performing little man-
ual labor (hecause they were necessarily occupied with the more
important, and often more arduous, lahor of superintendence),
the freedmen assume that, to be free, is to be like their masters
in the former particular. They forget this little difference, that
a man cannot he usefully occupied in the labor of superintend-
ence,, when he has nobody to superintend. Your first taak, sir,
will be to convince them of this mistake, and, as I have proved,
you are bound to do this, without causing or permitting them
to S'Uffer any painful consequence of this error;

Your emissaries, armed and clerical, diligently taught
them that all the lahor rendered by them in servitude was in-
compensated; and that every dollar of the proceeds of that la-
bor taken hy the landholder, was a robbery from them. (A
good and certain home and livelihood at all times, sustenance
for their families, provision for their decrepitude, and main-
tenance for those they leift behind them are, in the eyes of these
philosophers, no oom'pensation at all, even for that labor which
is least skilled; hecause, I presume, they were so secure and
regular. And it is the estahlished doctrine of the Abolition
school, that, while lahor is entitled to wages, capital is not; in
accordance with which truth, those good people, as is well
known, always lend out their money lor nothing, and pay away
the whole profits of their costly factories in wages to opera-
tives.) The consequence of this doctrine among the freedmen
is this: They argue that all the property in the country being
the fruit of their unrequited labor, they may now help them-
selves to a fair return, whenever and however they can. Hence
a habit of what we old fashioned Southerners used to call

KAJOB GKNKEAL HOWAKD. 43

"theft," which renders them of rather doubtful utility as hired
laborers. You will have a great deal of trouble, sir, in cor-
recting Uns mistake; and again, I urge that you are bound to
do this, without permitting or causing the freedmen to taste
any of its bitter consequences. For, I reason of this as of all
other misoonceptiona which they learned of you, that you are
solemnly. bound not to. let them- suffer for what was your error.
What, will you punish them for believing you? It would be
a monstrous iniquity. You have this task then, gently to edu-
cate. them out of this innocent mistake of Stealing everything
which comes to their hand, by "moral suasion," without stocks,
whipping posts, jails, or any such harsh measures; and mean-
time, to generoiisly repair all the evil consequences of those
thefts, to thenjselves or others, out of your own inexhaustible
pockets. Do you not think, sir, that to effect this the "school-
master" will have to go "abroad" pretty considerably?

Thus one mischievous mistake chases another through
their igijorant minds, fostered by designing and malicious men;
and each one is a fatal obstacle in that path of sober industry
where alone their welfare is to be found. You have a great
task, sir, in causing them to unlearn these misconceptions. How
many embarrassing self-contradictions your people will have
to make in performing that task, it is not for me to indicate.

Another of your difBculties will be foimd in the necessity
for the displacement of a very large part of the black labor and
po<pulation in many districts of the South. My own county
may be taken as a fair example of the other parts of Vinginia.
There were in it about eight thousand 'blacks. Our wisest men
of bufflness are unanimous in declaring that under the new sys-
tem of hireling labor, the industrial pursuits of the county can-
not employ profitably more than one-third (some say not more
than one-fifth) of the former labor; at prices which will give sub-
sistence, to the blacks. And their opinion is manifestly correct,
because every business man who is questioned, individually,
declares that. he is constrained to reduce the labor employed by
him in some such ratio. Now, this fact is not cited by me to
argue from it, the superior economy and productiveness of the
former system, in that it was able to employ, upon the same
soil, in a remunerative manner, three times or five times as

44 MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD.

much labor. (And that the employment of it was remunerative
is proved beyond a cavil by the prosperity of employers and la-
borers.) The only use I make of the fact is-to show that two-
thirds of this black population should at <mce emigrate; or it
becomes unemployed, destitute, suffering and vicious. But the
local attachments of the African are predominant; and that
spirit of adventure and enterprise, which carries the Virginian
to the front wave of every tide of pioneer population, is as for-
eign to his nature as frost is to his fervent native clime. The
temper of the negro is to do just what he has been used to, and
nothing else. Here, sir, you have a problem which will tax
your ingenuity and force; how to displace two-thirds of the
half million of blacks in Virginia to a new soil, when they do
not wish to go, have no capital, and are deficient in knowledge
and thrift; and to do tMs without a result of widesplread desti-
tution, domestic distress, disease and death.

But, perhaps, the greatest of your diflflculties is ttte one
which has been hitherto least appreciated — the novelty of your
task. You, sir, are appointed to do whalt no other mortal has
hitherto done successfully: to transmute four millions of slaves,
of an alien race and lower culture, all at once into citizens, with-
out allowing them to suffer or deteriorate on your hands. You
have no precedents to guide you. You cannot resort to the
pages of political history to find there the lights which may
show you your momentous duties. But there is no other guide
in political science. The machinery of moral causes, which
forms a political society, is too complex for any finite anind to
foresee, by its a priori speculations, what wheels will be moved
by the spring which he touches. His only safe guide is the
exiperience of previous results under similar conditions. If he
attempts to act beyond this his action is, in the worst sense,
experiment; a blind guess, leading him by haphazard to un-
forseen results. In the sciences of material things, these ex-
periments have been useful and are legitimate. The philosopher
may properly deal thus with his metallic ore; he may venture
his unproved hypothesis concerning it; he may submit it to new
solvents, or acids, or fires; oftentimes he will find that his hy-
pothesis is false and leads to nothing; but sometimes he will
find that it is the occasion of stumbling upon the key to one of

Major general Howard. 45

nature's precious secrets. Now, his justification is that the ore
which he eats with corrosive acids, or melts in his furnace, suf-
fers nothing in this blundering process of questioning after new
truth. It has no nerves to be fretted under his handling; no
heart to be wrung; no sentient or intellectual destiny to be
perverted or destroyed under has mistakes, and, above all, ho
immortal soul to be lost in his hands. But, in social science,
mere experiments are crimes; for the subjects of them are im-
mortal intelligences, endowed by Ood with a moral destiny,
with hearts to bleed under errors, and never-dying souls to be
lost. Fearful, then, is the responsibility of him who handles a
social revolution new in the history of man. He must march;
yet he cannot know whether or not the path which he selects
will lead Mm over the bleeding hearts and ruined destinies' of
his own charge. For such, the only adequate director is the
Spirit of God; and his best resort is 'prayer. To that resort I
sincerely and solemnly commend you ; and close by subscribing
myself. Your very obedient servant,

ROBERT L. DABNEY,
Sept. 12, 1865. Prince Edward County, Va.

ABSTRACTIONISTS/

There are two ways i»f reasoning about human aflfairs. One
is, to bring measures to the test of fundamental principles, and
abide by their decision firmly. The other is, to inquire ; "What
is the dictate of policy, of expediency, of present utility?"
There are two classes of minds in the world: the speculative, and
the practical. The former seeks to analyze its objects of
thought, to arrive at ultimate truths, and from those truths, to
deduce its practical oonclusdons. The other only considers prop-
ositions, in the light of their practical consequences as perceiv-
ed by itself. The former looks at general laws : -the latter at im-
mediate results.

Now the latter class of 'people have applied to the former,
in these days of ours, a name, which is at least new in its pres-
ent sense: abstractionists. It is subject of joy, for the sake of
the credit of the Church, that this name was fl^rst invented
among politicians; but it is to be lamented, that the Church's
■people have, to her disgrace, borrowed the name with its con-
temptuous meaning, from the politicians. An abstraction,
properly understood, means, a proposition considered as naked
and general, stripped of all the accidental circumstances which
beloi^ to any individual case under it. But the idea which
some of those seem to have, who use the word as a term of
contempt, is that it is just something which is abstruse. Those
who know what they mean by it, if there are any such, probably
intend by abstractions, speculative principles, as opposed to
practical conclusions.

Among the many good results of popular government in
church and state, there is this unfortunate one: that its usages
tend to teach the governing minds to despise speculative
thought, and reason only from present expediency. It is the
popular mind, with which they have to deal: and that mostly in
the fugitive form of oral address, or the flimsy newspaper ar-,
gument, where the whole result intended, is a momentary im-

1 Appeared In "Pres&yterfal Critic," June, 1856.
46

AfiSTEAflTIONlSTS. 47

pression. The minds addressed, are not trained to speculation,
and oould not comprehend it. Hence, puhlic men are tempted
to disuse it, till they 'become incapable of it themselves; and
all profundity and hreadth of view are neglected, or even de-
spised, in reasoning of public affairs. Men aim only to catch
the public ear by some shallow argument of present expediency;
and brand all appeals to more fundamental truths "as ahstrac-
tions," — gossamer speculations unworthy to hind tjie strong
common sense of practical people. Thus, it is proposed, in- fed-
eral politics, to institute some measure, the argument for which
is present utility. Its opponents ohject, that it is not within the
legitimate scope of the federal institutions; and to institute it
would be a virtual breach of constitutional compacts. "Ah,"
says its advocate, "that is one of your 'abstractions.' Isn't the
measure a good one in its practical eilect? Then why not adopt
it?" Or, in church affairs; one good brother proposes, that the-
Church shall take into its own oflBcial hand, the business of
education, and imhue it properly with the Christian element.
Another brother objects, that to educate is not the divinely ap-
pointed function of a church. "Why," asks the first, "don't you
admit that all education ought to he Christian education?''
"Oh, yes," says the respondent ; "hut it is the function of Chris-
tian parents; combining, if necessary; but as parents, not as
presbyters." "What of that?" says the first; "our church schools
are very good things: very harmless things as yet: and where
is the difference between a combination of certain men as
Christian parents, to make and govern a certain sort of school,
and a combination of the same men as presbyters to make the
same sort of school?" "There is the difference of the principle
involved," it is answered; "and it is never safe to admjt a false
principle." "Pshaw," says the first.; "that is nothing hut one
of your 'abstractions.' "

The term is intended to he one of contempt. It is supposed
to describe something uncertain, vague, devious, sophistical: as
opposed to that which is positive, sensible and reliable. The
"abstractionist" is represented as a man, fancdiful and unrelia
ble; who pursues the intangible moonshine .of metapjiysical
ideas, until he and his followers "wander, in devious mazes
lost." But if any of the men who attempt abstractions are vague

48 ABSTBA0TIONI8TS.

or sophistical, is it because they use abstract propositions; or
because they misuse them? If men choose to be careless or dis-
honest in their thinking; — if they will mix or vary the terms
of their projwsitions, or commit any other logical errors, they
will be erroneous, however they- may reason. And we assert, as
an offset to this reproach, that no truths can be general, except
those which are abstract: for by the very reason that concrete
propositions are concrete, they must be particular, or indivi-
dual; and therefore no deduction made from them, can have any
certainty when it is attempted to give it a general application.
The concrete is best for illustration, but for general reasoning
it is useless: and all gentlemen who are accustomed to boast,
that they are not "abstractionists," thereby confess that their
arguments are only illustrations. If they wish to glorify their
logic therein, they are welcome.

But that any educated man should indulge in this slang of
the hustings and the demagogue, is derogatory to his own intel-
ligence, and his fraternity. For every man of imformation ought
to know, that abstractions are the most practical things in the
world. His reading ought to remind him how directly the most
abstract truths have led on to the most practical conclusions;
how inevitably they work themselves out into practical results,
and how uniformly the most practical truths depend for their
evidence on those which are abstract. There is no branch of
human science, which does not teem with illustrations of this.
Our anti-abstractionists would probably consider it rather a
shiidt>wy questton, if they were called to debate whether or not
Galvanism and Magnetism are generically distinct or like; two
somethings impalpable, invisible, imponderable, which we
hardly know whether to call substances or not. Yet, on the an-
swer to that question depended the invention of the Magnetic
Telegraph, with all its very practical results, in the regulating
of the prices of breadstuffs, the catching of fugitive rogues, and
the announcement of the end of dead emperors. Latent caloric
strikes us as a rather abstract thing: a something which no hu-
man nerve ever has, or ever will feel, and which the most deli-
cate thermometer does not reveal. And about this shadowy
something, a very shadowy proposition has been proved by your
contemptible abstracttonists : namely, that in certain cases, sen-

ABSTRAOTtoN-tSTS. 49

sible heat becoming latent, increases elasticity. This Is the ab-
straction which revealed to mankind the secret steam engine;
and which now propells our boats, apins our cloths, grinds our
flour, saws our lumber, ploughs the ocean with our floating
palaces, whirls us across oontinents in the rail-cars, and some-
times scalds or cripples us by the score. A rather practical
thing, is this abstraction.

Or, let us take illustrations from the moral sciences. Ev-
ery well informed man ought to know that the abstract ques-
tion, whether general ideas are substances, canoeption, or
names, once almost threw Europe into fits, armed universities,
and even commonwealths against each other, and probably
cost John Huss his life. Whether what we call causation is a
real and necessary connexion, or merely an observed sequence
of events, is a very abstract question: but it makes all the dif-
ference between a God and no God: yea, all the difference be-
tween the blessings, dvilizatian, wholesome restraints and hap-
piness of religion, and the license, vice, atrocity and despair of
Atheism. Indeed your thorough Atheist, is the only true and
oomsistent anti-aibstractionist. Janathan Edwards' work on the
will, is usually thought rather an abstract book, on a rather ab-
stract subject. Its great question is, whether volitions are cer-
tain, according to the prevalent bent of the dispositions, or self-
determining. But the answer to this abstract question decides
authoritatively between Calvinism and Felagdanism. Presby-
terians, we think, have found the latter quite a practical mat-
ter! Can human merit be imputed to another human beiig, in
God's government, as it is in man's? "A very useless, unprac-
tical question," you say. "I don't care to speculate in such
unsubstantial merchandise." Well, from the affirmative an-
swer to that question Thomas Aquinas deduced 'the grand sys-
tem of Papal Indulgences. Here is an abstraction 9ut of which
grew -a good many important matters: such as a good many mil-
lions of crowns transferred out of the pockets of good' Catho-
lics, intD those of "his Holiness the Pope" ;— the zeal of Luther
against Tetzel, and thence the Reformation — with English lib-
erty and through that, American ; with a good many other very
practical affairs. But enough. The most abstract propositions
have often divided nations, and led to wars, revolutions, and

50 AB8TEA0TI01TI8T8.

convulsions: just as that abstraction, "whether a man' can
rightfully own as property, the labor of a fellow man without
his voluntary consent," now threatens our nation with fratrici-
dal and suicidal war. There is no practical truth, in the evi-
dence of which an abstract one is not concerned. There is no
abstract truth which may not lead, by logical necessity, to prac-
tical results. How unthinking, and ignorant ought a man to be,
in order to utter an honest, sincere sneer against dealings and
dealers in abstractions? Very stupid indeed. Again; such
sneers are always inconsistent. Every man is an abstractionist,
except perhaps the materialist — atheist, who does not believe
there is any God, because he has never seen Him, or ttiat he has
any soul, because he cannot handle it. Those who contemptu-
ously disavow it, only do so' when the abstractions are against
them; and strenuously use similar abstractions, on their own
side. How literally has this been verified in federal politics?
In truth, no man can help it; for the foundation of every man's
right, theory, or project, whatever it may be, is on an abstract
principle. And the veriest red-Republican of them all, who
thinks he has trampled down every abs'traction, still relies on
his own favorite ones, ts sustain his radicalism. Says the
Agrarian: "Here is my rich neighbor, who has more than he
can possibly use, or even waste. How much better to take
away a 'part, and give it to me, who need a little capital to en-
able me to be a producing citizen. You will thereby benefit
me, the state, and my rich neighbor himself: fDr he is so rich
that it is an actual injury to him." You object, that the rights
of property are in the way; and that it is of more fundamental
importance to the state, that those rights should be protected,
and that every man should be certain of the rewards of his in-
dustry, than that property should be equally distributed. These
are in his eyes, nothing but abstractions. Why should a citizen
be kept back from obvious and present advantage, by the goss-
amer threads of those abstract rights? So he helps himself
liberally to his neighbor's property, and thus becomes a man of
property himself. And now, lo! he forthwith invokes those ab-
stract rights of property, to defend his new acquisitions against
other red-Republicans, as greedy as himself, but still poorer.
But the serious and lamentable point about all this deci^-

ABSTRACTIONISTS. 51

ing of abstractions is, that where it is intelligently and delib-
ei-ately uttered, it is thoroughly profligate. What is it all, but
a demand that principle shall give way to expediency? All the
principles of morals, in their last analysis, are abstractions.
The distinction between right and wrong is an abstraction, as
pure and disembodied as was ever presented by metaphystics.
And in short, the difference between an honest man and a
scoundrel, is but this: that the former is governed by a general
principle, which is an abstraction, in opiwsition to the present
concrete prospect of utility ; while the latter is governed by his
view of present expediency, in opposition to the general princi-
ple. What else do we mean by saying that a man is un princi-
pled^ In the eyes of such a man, the restraints of a constitu-
tion which he has sworn to support, are abstractions, whenever
they seem to oppose the present dictates of expediency. All
those broad and wise considerations, which show how m'ueh
more important is a consistent adherence to general principles,
than the gain of a tempnirary and partial advantage by their vio-
lation, are but abstractions. And with the same justice, though
with greater impiety, it ntight also be said, that the immutable
principles of eternal rectitude, to which G-od compels all the
interests of the universe to bend, at whatever cost of individual
misery, are abstractions. What, for instance, is the principle,
which constitutes the necessity for an atonement? What, ex-
cept that necessary connexion, which the unchangeable perfec-
tions of God have established between the abstract guilt oif
sin, and the penalty? "Now here is a penitent man," says the
Socinian; "a wondrous pious, proper man: he is never going to
sin any more : (the self-determining power of his own will has
decided that.) Who will be the worse for his pardon? Why
should he go to perdition, poor fellow, for a mere abstraction?"
All this sneering has ever sounded mournfully in our ears,
as a revelation of the unscrupulousness of the age. And to be
called an abstractionist, has we confess, been always received
rather as a compliment, than a reproach. It puts us in ad-
mirably good company; — along with all the profound thinkers,
and the stable, noble souls, whose brave motto has been "Obsta
priticipiis." And when the philosophic historian shall come to
write, in future ages, the history of the Decline and Fall of the

52 ABSTEAOTIONISTS.

Empire Republic, he will mark it as the most glorious tribute
to the public virtue of one school of our statesmen, that they
were branded by unthinking or unscrupulous adversaries, as
Abstractionists. And let none say, that in these words, we have
violated that delicate neutrality towards national parties, which
becomes a religious periodical.- The honor of both the great
parties of the nation, equally approves and demands the senti-
ment. For the sneer would have seemed as profligate and
odious in the ears of a Hamilton or a Marshall, as in those of a
Madison or a Calhoun.

"But, is there not a style of reasoning, wMch calls itself
general and abstract, which is, in fact, unreliable, misty, and
deceptive? This," some will say, "is what we mean by abstrac-
tions." Well, good reader, you express your meaning very un-
fortunately. When next you hear men using propositions,
which they suppose general, in a manner vague and sophistical,
we pray you, in the name of intelligence, sound logic, and^ sound
principle, do not express your dissent, by saying that they are
abstractions, say simply that they are untrue.

THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY/

If this phrase appear to anj reader paradoxical, a very lit-
tle reflection will convince him that it is only so in appearance.
For, the greatest organized wrongs which the civilized world
has seen perpetrated in modern times, upon the well-being of
mankind, have been committed under the amiable name of hu-
manity. No despotic government now avows the ruthless pur-
pose of self-aggrandizement and of the gratification of hatred
and the lust of power; but its pretense is always the good of
society, and the welfare of the governed. The wars of the "Holy
Alliance," which drenched Europe in blood at the beginning of
this century were all undertaken nominally for the peace and
liberties of Europe. No demagogue confesses, in popular gov-
ernments, the greedy am'bition or avarice which proves to be
his secret motive: but he seeks only the good of the "dear peo-
ple," while he betrays them into mischievous anarchy or legis-
lative atrocities.

The religious persecutions, which have made nominal Chris-
tianity the scourge of humanity, have all professed the same
kindly purpose. When the excellent St. Augustine first exerted
his influence and logic to make them respectable, he argued
against the I>onalists, that, as the parent chastises a wayward
son to save him from the ruin of his vices; or as a physician
rouses the lethargic patient by pungent cataplasms, so the
church, the guardian of souls, might lovingly rescue her way-
ward children from the curse of heresy, by imprisonments,
fines and stripes. And this is the argument of persecution in
all ages. All the racks, the funeral pyres, the autos da fe with
which the Inquisition blackened Europe, were justified by this
plea of love. Men were slain with protracted and exquisite tor-
tures, out of mere humanity, and to save their beloved souls at
the expense of their sinful fiesh. It was 'from the same amiable
impulse that Simon de Monfort went from the devout 'participa-
tion in the Lord's supper, to the storming and sack of Albigen-

1 Appeared In "Tht Land We Love:' December, 1866. 53

54 THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY.

sian towns, and the butchery of their women and children.
These enormities of a darker age are now as much deplored by
enlightened and liberal Catholics as by Protestants themselves
The crusades against the Moslems also, justified their incon-
ceivable barbarities, in part by a humane pretence : It was the
protection and assistance of Holy Palmers, in their pilgrimages
to the sacred places in Palestine, which moved the crusaders,
along with zeal for the honor of Ohrdst's sepulchre.

Another instance is presented by the colonial enterprises of
the Spaniards and Portugese in tropical Ajnerica. In all these
voyages and wars, which entailed upon the feeble aborigines
the untold horrors of extermination, a devout and philanthropic
enthusiasm was an active cause. Columbus himself was as
much a missionary as a votary of science, in his life-long dreams
of discovery. He proposed to the King and Queen of Spain the
extension of the blessings of the gospel, as much as of their em-
pire, as the end of his projects ; and wherever he and has suc-
cessors landed upon the soil of America, they set up the cross
alongside of the banner of Castile. Of the Spanish adventurers,
Presoott says: "Their courage was sullied with cruelty; the
cruelty that flowed equally — strange as it may seem — from their
avarice and their religion ; religion as it was understood in that
age, the religion of the crusader. It was the convenient cloak
for a multitude of sins, which covered them even from himself.
The Castilian, too proud for hypocrisy, committed more cruel-
ties in the name of religion, than were ever practiced by the
pagan idolater or the fanatical Moslem. The burning of the
infidel was a sacrifice acceptable to heaven, and the conversion
of those who survived, amply atoned for the foulest offenses.
It is a melancholy and mortiifying consideration, that the miost
ancomppomising spirit of intolerance — the spirit of the Inquisi-
tor at home, and of the Crusader abroad — should have emanat-
ed from a religi[)n which preached i>eace on earth, and good
will towards man!" So, the contrast between Pizarro and his
two partners, for the conquest of Peru, begins by invoking in
the most solemn manner, the names of the "Holy Trinity and
our Lady the Blessed Virgin." — "In the name of the Prince of
Peace," says Robertson, "they ratified a contract, of which
plunder and bloodshed were the objects." Of the same tran-

THE CRIMES OF PIULANTHROrY 55

saction Prescott remarks: "The invocation of heaven was na-
tural, where the object of the undertaking was, in part, a re-
ligious one. Religion entered more or less into the theory, at
least, of the Spanish conquests in the new world." * * •
"It was indeed a flery cross that was borne over the devoted
land, scathing and consuming it in its terrible progress; but it
was still the cross, the sign of man's salvation, the only sign by
which generations yet unborn were to be rescued from eternal
perdition."

Thus it would seem the piety of Christendom has projected
itself upon Asia and America as a flood of rapine and destruc-
tion. Nor can the Anglo-Saxon race of Protestants claim ad-
vantages over the Peninsular, in the results of their enterprisei
in America, as to the aborigines. They crossed the ocean pro-
fessedly in pursuit of freedom, religious liberty and civilization.
The consequence of their appearance lias been likewise the ex-
termination of the red man.

But the missions planted by ecclesiastics in tropical Amer-
ica presented a still more glaring perversion. Until the begin-
ning of this century, in some of these missions, military expe-
ditions were annually equipped by the holy fathers, against the
neighboring pagan tribes, piously termed cazas de tas almas,
"hunts for souls," for the purpose of capturing as many per-
sons as they oould, and sut^jecting them to a compulsory bap-
tism and training. These involuntary converts were then dis-
tributed among the families of the priests or the Christianized
Indians, to be trained by servitude to habits of industry and
morality. Thus, armed men were seen, in the name of human-
ity and mercy, assailing and burning towns, murdering help-
less families, and dragging the wretched survivors into bondage
with all the ferocity of the African slave-catcher.

When the cruelties of these various forms of religious fa-
naticism are considered, it is not allowable to account for them
by asserting the conscious hypocrisy of the perpetrators. From
the days of Saul of Tarsus until these, many a persecutor could
doubtless say, that they "verily thought" they ought to do these
things. In many a scourge of humanity, the evidences of sin-
cerity have been unquestionable; and the general integrity of

66 THE CRIMES OJT PHILANTHEOpy.

character has served only to enforce the rigor of their deter-
mination.

In the instances which have been now cited, other pur-
poses have been mixed with those of philanthropy, and have
perhaps been the main ones, while the humane designs were
secondary. But yet more remarkable examples have occurred,
where the most cruel inflictions which have cursed mankind,
have sprung out of the express purpose to contribute to his wel-
fare; and where the very apostles of humanity have shown
themselves the most vindictive towards their fellow men. The
reader of history will recall to mind that the African slave
trade, with all its 'perpetual intestine wars, its burninga, mas-
sacres and rapes, its chains and dungeons, and the horrors of
the "middle passage," originated in a compassionate plan of
the benevolent Bartholomew I/as Oasas, to relieve the Indians
of the Spanish Islands from the burden of slavery. It was his
sympathy with their sufferings, which caused him to inveht this
expedient, of substituting the hardier Negro under the yoke.

But the eminent instances of the crimes of philanthropy are
those of our own age. And among these, none stands higher in
this bad eminence than the "rei^n of terror' under the ascen-
dency of the French democrats, at the close of the last century.
The first revolution in France was especially the work of its
infidel, humanitarian philosophers; who taught the perfecti-
bility of human nature, the natural lights and equality of man,
and J:he intrinsic injustice of all distinctions of rank; who traced
to these all the miseries of human society, and heralded the era
of political equality as a second golden age. The motto of the
fiery democrats trained in their school was, liberty, equality^
fraternity. They boasted that their mission was to restore to
all orders of men, through the potency of these principles, that
universal happiness and harmony, plenty and love, of which
civilized societies had hitherto been cheated through the ma-
lignant cunning of priests and magistrates. Well, they over-
turned the throne, the nobility, the altar, the constitution; they
held in their hands the naked constituent elements of the com-
monwealth, to remould them as they listed, and to give the full-
est application to their principles; and the result was the Reign
of Terror. Marat became the organ of the party of "liberty,

THE CRIMES OF PHILANIHROPY. 57

equality, and fraternity" through the press; and the ferocious
Danton through the tribune. The former through his newspa-
per, i' Ami du Peuple, croaked his perpetual demands for blood,
like a ghoul, saying that it would never be well with the cause
of fraternity, until two hundred and sixty thousand heads fell
before it. T'his was the precise number of the human heca-
tombs, which this apostle of humanity demanded, to satiate his
Moloch. Danton, on the other hand, 'mounted the tribune,
wlfich was the pulpit of this new gospel of philahthropy, to
thunder bis demands for accelerating the guillotine, or author-
izing the September massacres. And it was ever in the name
of this amiable cause, that Robespierre, that incarnation of
snaky cruelty, devoted :fresh thousands to murder. It is not
necessary to repeat the pictures of this season: the very term,
Reign of Terror, carries to every student of history a meaning
more descriptive of misery, cruelty, crime, and agony, than any
details could convey. The total of these sacrifices, as coolly giv-
en by the socialist Proudhomme, tells the tale better than rhet-
oric can do it; it was one million and twenty two thousand,
made up as follows: of the guillotined in Paris, eighteen thou-
sand; victims slain or executed in Lyons, thirty -one thousand;
murdered by the ferocious Carrier at Nantes, thirty-two thou-
sand ; slain in battle, ■massacre, and execution, in miserable La
Vendee, nine hundred and forty thousand: Of this total, about
forty-five thousand were women and children!

From that day to this, the Jacobin party have unfailingly
exhibited the same frightful combination of philanthropic cant,
with a truculent ferocity of spirit. "With their tongues they
have used deceit; the poison of asps is under their lips." And
this manifestation is, if possiible, only the more conspicuous,
amidst the professed Christianity of Old and New England.
Do these pretended assertors of the rights of man organize
themselves as Chartisit clubs? Then we see them wielding, as
their chosen instruments, against all who presume to question
the safety and wisdom of their plans, fiery invective and denun-
ciation, the incendiary's torch, and secret assault or assassina-
tion. Or does the Jacobin creed embody itself again in the
professed "Liberal Party" of Bright on the other side of the At-
lantic, and of his cousin-germans— the progressives^on this
side? Then the same contrast is displayed between the atrocity

SS THE CRIMES OP PHILANTHROPY.

ol* their spirit, and the humanity of their pretensions, by the
zest with which the latter have perpetrated, and the former
have applauded, the recent horrors in the late Confederate
States. Humanity, in their mouths, means, favor to those who
assist their overweening and headstrong projects, with ruth-
less injustice and violent persecution, robbery, arson and mur-
der, to all who presume to doubt their propriety.

This recent type of Jaoobinism illustrates the cruelty of
humanitarian philanthropy in our day, by two of its favorite
schemes, abolition of negro slavery, and the Peace Society. The
former, in the British colonies, has just glorified its zeal lor hu-
man welfare, by converting a number of thousands of prosper-
ous fellow citizens into paupers and exiles, and a race of con-
tented, useful, and improving peasantry, into savages; while it
is now, on this side of the ocean, "in the full tide of successful
experiment," advancing towards the same benevolent result.
The former have been engaged for thirty years, in painting the
horrors of war, in describing with moving words, the prodigal
waste of human happiness and life which attends it, and in de-
nouncing even defensive war, as an invention oif the devil, ut-
terly unworthy of a Christian nation. It is also the same men
usually, who declaim against the harshness and barbarity of
the capital punishments denounced against the chief crimes by
our criminal laws. Now the plain people amongst us, who draw
their maxims of common sense from the Bible, have questioned,
from the first, the genuineness of this humanity ; it appeared to
them a little queer, that those special advocates of forbearance,
were almost always peculiarly overbearing in their temper
towards dissentients, that they were very intolerant in their ad-
vocacy of tolerance, and very belligerent in the tone in which
they urged peace. The true animus of the party was correctly
foreshadowed by the spirit of one of its members, who appear-
ed, a quarter of a century ago, to advocate the Peace Principles,
at the bar of a dignified ecclesiastical assemblage in America,
and to enlist its support for them. In his bustling labors in the
lobby, he declared that Christianity forbade to the individual,
and to society, all violent resistance of injury ; that to retort the
intended suffering on the aggressor was inconsistent with true
humanity: and that all which was necessary to disarm assault,
was, for everybody to practice a determined passivity and non-

THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY. 69

resisting love. The members of the body which he addressed
were then characterized by a sturdy, old-fashioned sense, for
which it has unfortunately not been since so conspicuous. They
attempted to induce the ardent man to bring his principles home
to his own person, in such a case as the following: "Suppose
that some son of Belial should attack you without provocation,
in the absence of all legal protection, and with evident purpose
of injury to life or limb: what would you do?" "I should de-
clare my purpose of non-resistance," he replied, "and appeal
with confidence to his conscience. It is the sight of resistance,
which gives resolution to the rising impulses of aggression ; a
thoroughly peaceful attitude will surely awaken the better na-
ture of an assailant, and make him relent, before he strikes."
"Yea, but," said they, "there are men in whom conscience and
the better nature are effectually seared, who would only be en-
couraged by the prospect of non-resistance." "Still," answered
he, "I would retain my passive attitude, and display the majesty
of meekness, so that it would be impossible for him actually to
strike." And these boastful words he uttered with an air of
angry assumption, as foreign from his professed meekness as it
was evidently adapted to provoke assault. The next day, the
ecclesiastical body agreed, out of respect for the cause of hu-
manity which he professed to advocate, to hear his views. He
urged them with much warmth and self-confidence, to adopt
resolutions committing themselves to his theory; and when the
objections of sober good sense were urged, flew into a furious
passion, denounced his opponents, and flung himself out of*the
house in true fighting temper.

This incident gives a correct type of the combined ignor-
ance of their own hearts and of other men's, and errors of rea-
soning, iDy which this sect is infested. And it foreshadowed pre-
cisely, the fiendish temper with which they have themselves met
the shock of real resistance. When they found a people who
begged to be excused from the intrusions of their unauthorized
meddling, and the propagation of their pet schemes of philan-
thropy, these peace-society men, who denounced even defensive
war an inhuman crime; who — shuddered, sweet souls! — at the
sight of a drop of the criminal aggressor's blood, and preferred
that it should be spared even at the cost of the blood of the in-
nocent ; who were busy sending committees to the Czar as the

60 THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHBOPY.

head of the first military monarchy of Europe, to teach him
h<rw wicked bayonets were, and remonstrating with the King of
Dahomey against his royal slave-hunts; these opponents of cap-
ital punishments, who, more merciful than the "Father of Mer-
cies," declared that it was quite cruel that he who sheds man's
blood should have his blood shed by man ; these superfine sen-
timentalists, paused in their sanctimonious pastimes, and, al-
most to a man, passionately joined the clamor of the party, who
demanded the extermination o'f their fellow citizens, for the
high crimes of daring to have opinions of their own, and as-
serting their own prescriptive rights. It was precisely from
this quarter that the loudest howl for plunder, murder, fam-
ine and oonflagration came! Abundant proof this, that the rul-
ing motive of such philanthropy is not love, but an intensely
selfish love of power, mental conceit, and hunger for applause.

This phenomenon is as curious as it is mortifying to the
true friend of humanity. Hence the explanation of it is inter-
esting, and, if it can be accomplished, profitable to all such.
An attempt will be made towards the explanation, by setting
worldly philanthropy in contrast with true Christianity. Al-
though the former is perpetually borrowing the name and lan-
guage of the latter, it will appear that they are contrasted in
their principles, and the principles of godliness will help to ex-
plain those of the counterfeit.

Philanthropy proposes as its end, advantage to man.
Christianity declares that man's chief end is to glorify God, and
enjoyi Him forever. Its doctrine is that "God hath made all
things for Himself; yea, even the wicked also for the day of
evil"; that "of Him, and through Him, and to Him are all
things; to whom be glory for ever and ever." Its one precept
is : "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and
soul, and mind, and strength ; and thy neighbor as thyself."

It is very true that the humanitarians, clamorously reject
this great proposition as an odious dogma. Just here, then,
they and God join issue. They say that sin<;e disinterestedness
is the property of every virtuous act, and selfishness is the hate-
ful root of vice, in all other beings, it would be immoral in God,
thus to propose Himself as His own supreme end, and to arro-
gate to Himself the services of all creatures, exhausting their
well-being upon Himself. They urge that this would be selfish-

THE OEIMES OF PHILANTHROPT. 61

ness more enormous than that of sinful men, just as its claims
are more vast. They exclaim that this scheme makes Grod the
great egotist of the universe. On the contrary, they display their
own scheme in enviable contrast for its disinterestedness, as
making the welfare of our fellow men the chief end.

These cavils against the Christian law assume that it is in-
trinsically wrong for a being to direct his aims to his own well-
being. But this is not true. There is a sense in which self-love
is lawful, even for a creature; yea, the absence of it may be
positive sin. There is another reason why the selfishness of
fallen man is criminal : It is because a question of prior right
intervenes. Our Creator puts in claims to the fruits of our ex-
istence, which are superior to all others; and therefore it is sin
to be supremely selfish, because it nobs our Maker of that which
we received of Him. But GK>d is indebted to none for His ex-
istence and powers. He alone is eternal, uncaused, and inde-
pendent. Obviously then, it is invalid to reason that, because,
in a creature, supreme egotism would be an odious crime, there-
fore it would 'be a vice in the uncreated God. That regard for
one's own well-being which, even in th€ creature, may be a
proper subordinate end, may be in the Creator a most righteous
supreme end.

But Christianity can defend itself with move positive ar-
guments upon this point. GSod, being immutable, is ever actuat-
ed by the same motives. But when His eternal purpose of crea-
tion and providence subsisted in His mind, "before He had
made the highest part of the dust of the earth," or laid the
foundations of the heavens. He must have been self-moved there-
to; for the irrefragable reason, that nothing else existed besides
Himself, to be a motive. Is it said that creatures, the future
recipients of His beneficence, were present in thought, and were
the motives of His purpose? The reply is at hand, that they
existed as yet, only in Bis purpose; which purpose was the ex-
pression of His own subjective desire and impulse alone, seeing
nothing but Himself existed. Hence the very purpose to create
creatures to be the recipients of His bounty, was simply the re-
sult o,f self-gratification, because the perfections of nature
thereby indulged were infinitely benignant. But whatever was
Grod's motive in the earliest eternity, is His motive still; for He
is without "variableness, or shadow of turning."

62 THJi OEIMES OF PHILANTHROPY.

When it is remembered that we are creatures, it is easily
ooncluded, that our highest duty is to G-od. He is the author of
our existence, our powers, our happiness, and supporter of our
nature. He is our proprietor, in a sense so high that all other
forms of ownership almost vanish away, when set beside God's.
He is, moreover, by His own perfections, the praperest object
of all reverence, homage, and suitable service. So that, mani-
festly, it is the highest virtue in the .creature, that he should
offer to God the supreme tribute of his being and service. But
if it is obligatory on the creature to offer this, it cannot be
wrong in God to accept it.

Hence, we repeat, G-od's most proper ultimate end, in all
His creation 'and government, is the gratification of His own
adorable perfections in His acting. And the creature's highest
duty is not chiefly to seek Ms own good, or that »f his fellow-
creatures; but the glory of God. He is the center, in.'whom
originated all beings, and to whom all should tend. His will
and glory is the keystone of the whole moral order of the uni-
verse. As it was the gratification of His infinite activity which
originated all creature existences, with all their powers of do-
ing and enjoying, so it is His self-ppompted desire to diffuse His
infinite beneficence, which-is the spring of all the well-being in
the universe. And here is the conclusive answer to the cavil
which we have been discussing : How can it be selfishness in
God to make the gratification of His own nature His supreme
law, where that nature is infinitely unselfish and benevolent?
In this light, the objection is seen to be of a piece with that
wretched philosophizing which argues, that, because the loving
mother, the sympathizing benefactor, are actuated by their own
subjective impulse, in succoring the objectiS of their kindn^s,
and find pleasure in the act,, therefore it is not disinterested.
Common sense^ as true philosophy, replies: aye, but is not the
pleasure itself a pleasure in disinterestedness? What higher
definition of a disinterested nature can be given, than to say
that its most instinctive pleasure is in doing gdod?

Thug, as Grod's own most suitable end is the satisfaction of
His own excellent perfections; so the creature's chief end is to
glorify aod enjoy Him. This benevolent God has, of course,
given the duties of benevolence to man a large place in the law
which he has enacted for men; but even in our freest acts of

THE OKIMEB OF PHILANTHROPr. 63

beneficence to our fellows, we are required to have a reference
supremely to Him whose creatures they are. Love to our neigh-
'bor is to be a corollary from love to our &od. We are chiefly to
seek His glory in their good, as in our own; and these are al-
ways in Complete harmony. Hence it follows that whenever
man makes his own, or Ms fellows' good his chief end, he neces-
sarily oomes short of that good ; and the only way to gain It, is
to seek the higher end. Nor is there a paradox, when we thug
say, that in order that man may truly attain his own well-being,
he must truly prefer something else to it. Is it not a parallel,
and an admitted truth, to say, that it is only when the virtuous
man prefers some better end than applause, in his actions, that
they are truly virtuous and deserving of applause? An instruc-
tive instance of this great law of our welPbeing is found by
every one in common life. Who has not experienced this: that
the days and the efforts which have been especially devoted to
our own enjoyment, have usually disappointed us of enjoyment,
while the days, which we devote primarily to duty, are thickly
strewn with Vayside flowers of unexpected pleasure?

Christian philanthropy 'derives its efficiency, no less than
Its purity, from this, that it all flows from the Christian's love
of his God. He is an object, who never disappoints us, who
never changes nor forgets; who never shows Himself forgetful
or neglectful of our affectionate service; who never disgusts our
efforts by unworthiness ; and who has pledged the most gen-
erous reward to every true act of humanity. But if we make
roan our chief end, he usually shews himself, soon, unwSrthy
to be our end. He alienates our love; he disgusts us by the
follies and crimes which cruelly counteract our efforts for his
good; he renders us indignant by his ingratitude. Su'ch an idol
as this can never animate us with a devotion, which will i1a&
to the pure and enduring self-sacrifice of Christian charity.
Hence, if for no worse reason, worldly philanthropy is ever fee-
ble, unsteady, evanescent.

But it is time to pursue, in turn, this part of the contrast.
The latter scheme proposes as our most proper and virtuous
end, not Gfod's glory; (this would be, say they, to make God the
infinite egotist) but man's good. Advantage to man is its high-
est aim. And this, the humanitarian claims, is true disinter-
estedness. Thi s forbids aelfishness as the ruling motive to man,

64 THE CftlJtES OE l»HltANTHK01'V.

as it disclaims it for Grod. (Might they not as well say at once,
forbids it to God, also; and thus disclose their real impiety?)
This, therefore, they urge, is the true, the morally beautiful and
amiable theory of life.

Let us see. By what logic can it 'be justly denied that
whatever is made our highest ultimate end is practically made
our Ood? It Is nothing, to the purpose that names and titles
are politely exchanged, and man is still called the creature, and
Jehovah the Grod. Virtually, the aggregate of humanity is
made our true divinity, by being made our moral end ; and Je-
hovah is only retained (if retained at all) as a sort of omnipo-
tent conveniency and Servitor to this creature-Grod. Further,
this result is immediately seen to be involved; that, inasmuch
as the philanthropist is himself a part of this aggregate human-
ity, "by nature equal" to any other part, he is a part of his own
God! He himself is, in part at least, his own supreme endJ Is
there no inkling of a supreme egotism here?

But now, if humanity is our supreme end, and if this hu-
manity is as truly embodied in one individual of the race, as
in all, and if each individual is "by nature equal"; by what
valid argument shall that man 'be refuted in the interests of
philanthropy, who shall choose to say, that he recognizes in
that humanity embodied in himself, his own nearest, and most
attainable end? He may plausibly add, that nature herself
sanctions this conclusion, by the powerful and instinctive princi-
ple of seW-love which she has implanted ; and yet more forcibly,
that «ince man's finite powers can only serve this aggregate
hunnanity, by serving some individual or individuals vyithin it,
and efforts directed equally to the whole must be wholly nuga-
tory; and since nature has given to each man more efBcient
means to influence his own destiny than that of any other man,
and more direct responsibility therefor, it is obvious that his
truest virtue will be to seek his own personal good, in prefer-
ence to that of any, or of all others? Such is precisely the
process, stated with analytic precision, which passes in an in-
volved and seml-eonscious form, through the minds of myriads
of the cMldren of this world, determining them to the supreme
indulgence of selfishness. Is not this but an expansion of the
process by which Hobbes, that "Leviathan" of infidel philoso-

THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY. 65

phers, concluded, that the normal state of man was a contest of
each individual's supreme self-love against each other's?

And now, by what argument shall it be refuted, from the
humanitarian premises? Will men attempt it, by adopting the
scheme of Jonathan Edwards, which defined virtue as "love to
being in general," and required the first love to be given to the
greatest aggregate of being? Will they say that one should
prefer the good of mankind to his own, because the race offers
a larger aggregate of humanity than the individual? This will
hardly be ventured at this day, after the extravagant deduc-
tions of Godwin's Political Justice have displayed the absur-
dity of the theory. But besides, since the devil and his angels
are exceedingly numerous, and creatures majestic in natural
endowments compared with man, it is probable that they pre-
sent a greater aggregate of being than mankind; whence it
would follow, that we are morally bound to prefer the welfare
of demons to that of men. Shall the theory be amended, then,
by saying that it is the largest aggregate of virtuous being, only,
which claims our preference, and first love? Then, first, suffer-
ing humanity would share least; because ours is a guilty and
depraved race; dnd usually, men's miseries (and so their need
of philanthropic aid) are in proportion to their sins. And sec-
ond: since God presents imnneasurably the largest aggregate of
virtuous being, this leads us back to God as our supreme end;
precisely the result which the humanitarian desires to shun.

Or will the refutation of inordinate selfishness be sought
fpom the more harmless theory of Jouffroy ; that, as the human
reason, educated 'by experience, compares the instinctive de-
sires of its fellow men for their personal good, with its own, it
recognizes their equality, and generalizes the law of the golden
rule, as the proper moral order of the whole? The ready answer
is, that if this is the moral order, then it is recognized by the
pure reason as the obligatory order. But obligation implies an
obligator; so that, by this process again, we are led back to God;
and our virtue is made to consist in conformity to his supreme
will. But, if the moral is rightfully the dominant faculty in
man, does not this also make God our supreme end?

We re-afflnn the charge, that on humanitarian grounds, an
absolute selfishness is a logical conclusion ; so that the boast of
disinterestedness which they make, is found hollow; and the

66 THE CRIMB8 OF PHILAJSTHEOPT.

reproach they attempt to cast upon Christianity is retorted up-
on themselves. It is a significant confirmation of this charge,
that this egotistical conclusion has been expressly avowed by
one school among those most subtile of ainti-Christian philoso-
phers, the German Idealists. This party, asserting that the
whole materials of human thought are to be found in the data
of our consciousness alone, then declare, that conscioasness
gives us naught but our own ideas, that what we delusively call
the objective sources of our sensations and perceptions, are
nothing more than the necessary limitations of our own thought
and feeling. Thus no evidence remains for the existence of an
outer world of either mind or spirit distinct from the conscious
self J and the only universe which remains is the something
which thinks. Self, God, the world, are reduced to one; and
that one is not a personal being, but an eternal impersonal pow-
er of thought. "Now," says the German Pantheist, in the last
refinements of his frightful theory; "since I, God, humanity,
are one, let either God or humanity be the proper end of exist-
ence, since these are only developed consciously to me in my-
self, self is the nearest and properest object to receive this su-
preme homage ; and absolute self-gratification is my highest ra-
tional end. Whatever I happen to prefer is to me, the truest
and chief est good; whatever I happen to will, is the highest
right."

•Hence the reflecting man need not 'be surprised to find these
humanitarians, who set out with the proudest boasts of benevo-
lence, 'end with the most engrossing selfishness. The highest
professors of this creed have ever been the most cruel of men.

The dmpotency of this system for good is farther explained
by coanparison with another law of Christian benevolence. As
the latter is founded on the love of God, for its motive, and
looks to a future recompense for its 'X)ersonal reward, so it re-
quires the Christian who "would go about doing good," to re
semble Ms Saviour in his spirit of self-sacrifice. Says the Apos-
tle John: "Hereby perceive we the love (of God) because He
laid down His life for us ; and we ought to lay down our lives
for the brethren" — and Paul, suffering for God's people, "filled
up that which was behind of the afSictions of Christ, in his
flesh for His body's sake, which is the church." It is true that
to purchase atoning merit, or make satisfaction to Divine jus-

THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY. 67

tice for others' guilt is a high prerogative, in which the suffer-
ings of the Son of God must be forever unapproachable. But
in the lower sense, there is a true analogy between the work
of the "Man of Sorrows," when he "bare our grief, and carried
our sorrows," and the beneficence of his followers. In all their
efforts to relieve human suffering Christians must suffer vioar-
iously: they cam only lift off the burden of a fellow man, by
bearing a part of it themselves. Their philanthropic ministry is
destined to be, like the humiliation of their Redeemer, essen-
tially a season of trial ; although cheered by not a few of those
glimpses of solace drawn by hope from "the glory that should
follow," which caused Christ, in the midst of His toils to "re-
joice in spirit." The glory and. blessedness are chiefly future,
and are with God. Now these are the conditions of a life of
true philanthropy; and the Christian's faith arms him with
forces which enable him to fulfill theim. But not so the 'jAil-
anthropy of the humanitarian. Its good element is nothing more
than the natural law of sympathy. As this word indicates, this
reflected emotion shares the pain by which it is excited; but the
effort to relieve that pain is also succeeded by an instinctive
pleasure, which in man's imperfect heart is never wholly dis-
interested, but involves some elements of self-love, and appe-
tite for applause. So it appears that the calculated end of all
such acts of beneficence is this personal pleasure. Does one
say, that sympathy also acts by an instinctive and involuntary
impulse? True; but can an un calculating instinct be relied on,
to produce and regulate a systematic life of benevolence? 'Nay
verily — man will never be nerved to the habitual, sustained en-
durance of suffering, by an impulse to personal pleasure: it is
contradiction.

One other fact remains to be mentioned, which thfe humani-
tarian studiouisly ignores, 'but which the Bible asserts. None
but God can truly elevate fallen and suffering humanity. Death,
and all the ills which are its foretastes, came 'by sin; and sin
reigns in human hearts, with a dominion which nothing but om-
nipotent power can break. All that human love can do is to
labor with God, as humble instruments, looking and praying
that He may give "the preparation of the heart," and lift up the
sufferers 'by a true and permanent restoration. Moreover, if our
toils are a failure as to their objects, by reason of the withhold-

68 THE CRIMES Ot PHILANTHEOPT.

ing of this sovereign agency, they cannot be a failure as to God's
glory and our recompense. These are sure, whether the sufferer
rise or sink, if our efforts are made in love and faith. But now,
it is manifest from this great truth, as it is shown by actual ex-
perience, that/ailure must be the result of all unbelieving phil-
anthropy, in the end. Its objects refuse to be rescued thorough-
ly; or they sink again. In asserting this, we take our stand up-
on the field of history, and boldly ask: where is the human de-
vice for the amelioration of man's sin and misery, which has
not terminated, sooner or later, in failure? Where as the form
of liberal government, the moral reform society, the temper-
ance society, the agency of civilization, which has accomplished
its work, and preserved it? But when this worldly philanthropy
fails, as fail it must, what is to solace its mortification, its dis-
appointed self-love, its indignation at the unworthiness of its
objects?

Another application of the fact of human depravify re-
mains; it affects the philanthropists themselves, as well as their
iJbjects. Their justice, benevolence, and sympathy are imper-
fect fragments amidst the ruins of their fallen nature. These
ruins, none but Qod can reconstruct ; and this He does through
the grace revealed in Christianity. The discussion has hither-
to 'been conducted upon the assumption claimed by the human-
itarians, that the motives prompting their intervention were in-
nocent; and all that has been hitherto urged is their InsufB-
cdency. But this is not the whole of the argument. Grod's in-
falliUe truth declares that all men, the philanthropists and the
sufferers, the philosophers and their pupils, are fallen creatures ;
that true righteousness is overpowered in them by sin, that the
partial good impulses which reimain as the reliques of paradise
are inferior and weak, and that the various elements of selfish-
ness are in the ascendant in every unregenerate will. Partial
impulses of social affection, of generosity, of sympathy, of hon-
or, illuminate in different degrees the natures of these men;
and far be it from us to deny their sincerity, but they are not
in the permanent ascendant. Sin is the ruler and tyrant of all
natural hearts. Now, if these things are indeed so, and the hu-
manitarians obstinately refuse to admit them, their blindness
to the nature of their own motives only aggravates their reck-
lessness, and the danger of mischief. Is their intervention for

THE CRIMES OP PHILANTHROPY. 69

their suffering fellow men prompted 'by genuine sympathy? Let
it be admitted; but this principle is unstable; and so surely as
they are men, the other principles, love of power, love of ap-
plause, conceit, pride, ambition, self-righteousness., or swme of
them, are mingled in some ratio, in every beneficent action. Let
the unworthiness or ingratitude of the objects, or mortifica-
tion of 'failure, or opposition concerning the methods of benevo-
lence, supervene, and how easily, how naturally, do"- the move-
ments of philanthropy slide into those of the malignant emo-
tions. Thus is generated the monster, fanaticism ; in which all
that remains of the beneficent purpose is a pretext, to blind the
mind of the fanatic to the true nature of his emotions, and to
sanctify to himself ail their enormities. The cold and glittering
enthusiasm of the imagination is com'bined with the malignant
paesions of self-display, lust of power, and hatred; arid the
whole, borrowing the sacred name of philanthropy, goes forth
upon its destroying career.

The true character of this fanaticism .may be disclosed by
easy tests. If love were the true spring of its pretended zeal,
that benignant emotion ought to display itself consistently, in
the general life, and especially in the daily practiced duties of
home and family, which should hold the first place in every
healthy conscience. But when the private life -of your fiery de-
claimer against social wrongs is examined, it is usually found
to be characterized by domestic harshness, injustice and selfish-
ness; his wife, his children, his servants, feel little of that
abounding beneficence which he delights to ventilate aibboad
concerning the wrongs of the distant and unknown. On the
other hand, the men of practical kindliness, who actually exer-
cise a generous and self-denying benevolence, in that home-
sphere, where benevolence is most practicable, are seldom found
among these self -constituted assertors of the wrongs of human-
ity. Moreover, let any individual among the pretended objects
of his sympathy be brought to their own door, and thrown upon
this actual help; he will be very likely to find it a imost unsub-
stantial dependence. The fiery philarfhropist will speedily
teach him that while he is very willing to gratify his malice by
scolding his opponents, or Ms pride by parading his benevo-
lence, he has little thought of sacrificing either his own money
or convenience for the sufferer,

70 THB OBIMES OP PHILANTHROPY.

From this position, th« mischievous and corrupting effects
of preached crusades against lorganized social systems which
are supposed to be evil, receives a facile explanation. Chris-
tianity and its true ministers make it their main business to ad-
dress the individual; and their topics are his own duties and
sins. They separate him, they tell him his spiritual necessities;
they say: "Thou art the man"; they teach him to make his own
spiritual amendment his chief care. Thus, by sanctifying each
individual, human society is effectually regenerated; and or-
ganic evils easily disappear. But when once the pulpit is per-
verted to declaim habitually against the public sins of com-
munities, and to agitate for their reform, the individual is en-
couraged to lose sight of his own errors (the only ones he is re-
sponsible for, or able to reform), and to occupy himself with the
wrong-doings of others. But these are of course, painted in
constant contrast with his own rectitude; so that this preaching,
instead of inculcating humility and sanctity, is nothing but a
ministration of spiritual pride, arrogance, and hatred. And
hence its popularity. It is much more agreeable to an evil
heart, to 'be reminded of its own superior excellence, and to be
invited to the work of reviling its opponents, than to be sum-
moned to the toils of self-discipline, the mortifications of per-
sonal contrition, and the crucifixion of carnal affections.

REPLY OF R. L DABNEY, D. D,

To the Letter of General Joseph E. Johnston, Criticising
Dr. Dabney's Narrative of the First Battle
of Manassas.
To tht Editors of Richmond Dispatch, funesi, i867.

Gentlemen : Accident recently brought to my attention the
remarks published in your paper of March 24th by General Jo-
seph E. Johnston upon the narration of the part borne by the
Stonewall brigade in the battle of Manassas contained in miy
life of General T. J. Jackson. So far as these corrections have
revealed error in my statements, I receive them thankfully, and
shall not fail to employ them, as soon as it is in my power, for
the perfecting of the accuracy of my narration. The high posi-
tion and services of General Johnston, which none honor and
appreciate more cordially than myself, do indeed render it al-
miost a presumptuous attempt to question the correctness of any
of his representations, especially when made by one in my ob-
scure place. But even to such a one the reputation for integrity
of purpose, at least, is very precious. I therefore beg leave to
exhibit in your columns some of the testimonies by which I sup-
pose myself to be sustained in the statements made. I hope ev-
ery reader will be charitable enough, when he examines these
witnesses, to conclude that, if I have been misled, it was with-
out evil intentions, and was not unnatural with such guides be-
fore me. I shall take up the points which I purpose to notice
mainly in the order of General Johnston's letter.

1. But first, I must endeavor to acquit myself of the charge
of disparaging some of General Jackson's comrades, whom, if
I knew my lown thoughts, I was only seeking, in my bungling
way, to honor. General Johnston says: "This account of the
battle does great injustice to General Beauregard, and to Bee's
and Early's brigades and their commanders. General Jackson's
great fame is in no degree enhanced by such disparagements of
his associates." The reader is requested to 'bear in mind the
fallowing general caution against such impressions contained

72 EEPLT OF E. L. DABNEY, D. D.

in my preface, page 6 : "And especially would I declare that,
in relating tbe share home hy General Jackson's comrades and
subordinates in his campaigns, I have heen actuated hy a cordial
and friendly desire to do justice to all. If I shall seem to any
to have done less than this, it will be my misfortune, and not
my intention." But it is more to the point to refer to my words
on page 215 of the narrative: "The other two" (reserve bri-
gades) "were those of Generals Bee and Jackson, and the hero-
ism of these two was sufficient to reinstate tbe wavering for-
tunes of tbe day," etc. Bee is mentioned first, and with tbe
same approbation as Jackson. Is this a disparagement? On
page 218, I say of Bee and Evans: "For two hours these two
ofiBcers, with five regiments and six guns, had breasted the Fed-
eral advances," etc. (I had before stated that this advance was
of 20,000 men.) Does this disparage Bee? On .page 222 I at-
tempt in my poor way to describe Bee's heroic end, exactly as
it was detailed to me by those who saw it, in the mjost honora-
ble words I could find. Oeneral Early and his brigade are men-
tioned by name, but their exploits are not described fully, be-
cause they acted on another part of the field, and bad no special
connection, as Bee had, with tbe movements of my own subject.
Jackson. And finally, on page 228, to guard against any pos-
sible apprehension unjust to others, these words are inserted:
"Tbe object of this narrative has been to give such a sketch of
tbe whole battle as to make the part borne by the Stonewall
brigade and its leader intelligible, and to give fuller details of
the conduct of the Greneral whose life is the subject of this work.
The reader will not infer from this tliat all the stubbDrn and
useful fighting was done by Jackson and his command. Other
officers and other brigades displayed equal heroism, and con-
tributed essentially to the final result," etc.

2. General Johnston questions my correctness in the ac-
count I gave of the surrender of Colonel Jackson's command to
him at Harper's Perry. The point of difference between them
was, that whereas General Johnston claiuied to relieve Colonel
J., at once, the latter refused to sun-ender his trust until au-
thorized in some shape to do so by tlose who had committed it
to him- — bis State authorities. And the point of difference be-
tween General Johnston and me now is that I say Colonel J.
was inflexible, and actually continued to hold his power until,

REPLY OF E. L- DABNEY, D. D- 73

opportunely, the autliority to transfer it came in the shape of
an endorsement of General Lee on a paper; while General John-
ston says: "There was no display of inflexibility on Jackson's
part," that he was enlighted by Major Whiting, and that my
representation "does injustice to General Jackson's character."
I did not conceive that it was my business as a historian to re-
flect whether the incident was favorable or unfavorable bo Gen-
eral Jackson's character, but to tell the exact trutji as it hap^-
pened. That I did not misrepresent it is shown by the letter
which General Johnston himself quotes, saying: "Until I re-
ceive further instructions from Governor Letcher or General
Lee I do not feel at liberty to transfer my command to anothei",
and must therefore decline publishing the order i" etc. I have
had the very letter containing General Lee's endorsement —
which happily solves the difficulty — ^in my possession. (I re-
turned it to Mrs. J., who doubtless haa^it now.) And if any
one questions whether Colonel J. had receded from his position
before receiving it, I would suggest that he aak the fact of his
aid. Colonel James Massie, of Lexington, Va.

3. I now pass to another point. General Johnston, dis-
senting from any opinion that it would have been better to
march the remainder of the Army of the Valley direct to the bat-
tlefield from Piedmant station, instead of waiting upon con-
fusied and dilatory trains of cars, sajes: "The fact that these
troops were two days in marching twenty-three miles from
(Winchester to Piedmont) shows that they could not have
marched thirty-four miles, from Piedmont to the scene of ac-
tion, in less than two days, and that the only hope of getting
them into the battle was by the railroad."

I had spoken of Jackson as having made a forced march of
thirty miles from Piedmont, which is charged as an error. But
I expressly represented that march as beginning, not at Win-
chester, but north of Winchester (p. 211). But grant a slight
error of miles here. From Piedmont to Gainsville is twenty-
six miles, and by a map furnished me from the bureau of Gen-
eral Gilmer of the Engineers, Gainsville is four miles from
Groveton bi,v turnpike. So that the distance to be marched on
foot, to get into action, was thirty miles, not thirty-four. Now,
General Jackson, on that occasion, marched to Piedmont in one
day. Why could not the rest of the troops do the same? They

74 REPIiT OF R. L. DAB NET, D. D.

left Winchester at 12 ,m. Thursday. The third day 'brought ex-
actly mid-day of the great battle. The next March, in short
days, General Jackson marched his army seventy-five miles in
three da^ys, and fought the battle of Kernstown besides. Why
could not the remainder of the Army of the Valley march fifty-
three miles (General Johnston's measure to Groveton) in three
days, when there was no battle to fight by the way? My opin-
ion was, obviously, not grounded on the supposition that the
troops were to be allowed to dawdle along the road in a man-
ner which General Jackson's brigade proved to be unneces-
sary. As to the destitution of food at Piedmont, those who ques-
tion the fact are respectfully referred to the officers and men of
the Thirty-eighth Virginia regiment (for instance). They will
receive from them statements which will account very fully for
my impression on that subject. No explanation of the fact was
advanced by me.

4. The next point of General Johnston's criticism is my
account of General Beauregard's first plan oif action and its re-
linquishment. If the reader will collate the different para-
graphs in which I state that matter (from pp. 213 to 217) he
will find that my representation was substantially this: That
General B.'s original plan had been to take the aggressive and
attack at Centerville, but so few of the troops of General J. had
arrived by Saturday night that he was compelled to postpone
it; that when the enemy took the initiative, Sunday morning.
General B. still recommended the carrying out of so much of
that original plan as to advance our right and center on Center-
ville as soon as the enemy's purpose to direct his main attack
on our extreme left was perceived, which suggestion General J.
accepted; that corresponding orders for such a movement of the
right and center were actually issued, and that they miscar-
ried; that when the fact became apparent that those orders
were not executed in sufficient time, the generals necessarily
relinquished that excellent plan, and wisely contented them-
selves with bringing up everything within reach for the imme-
diate support of the left. Let the reader now consider the fol-
lowing authorities by which I attempted to guide myself, and I
think he will feel that I have committed no serious error, and
certainly no intentional one;

General Ewell, then brigadier (whose letter I have before

RKPLT OF E. t. DABNET, D. D. 75

me), says: "His (B.'s) plan for some time, as explained in fre-
quent interviews with his brigade commanders, had been to
move forward his right and center, and attack." Next General
B., in his official report, says that at 4:30 a. m. of the 21st (Sun-
day) he ordered these troops to be in readiness. (Which order
General Ewell states he received and observed.) Next, in an-
other part of his report General B. states that he thought an
attack by bis right wing and center was the best means of rj-
ihving his left; and that the dispDsitions were submitted to
General Johnston^ and the orders issued. Next, a letter from
General B. to General Ewell, July 26, 1861, has the following
words: "I do not attach the slightest blame to you for the fail-
ure of the movement on Centerville, but to the guide, wh9 did
not deliver the order to move forward, sent at about 8 o'clock
a. m. to General Holmes, and then to you — eorrespDnding in ev-
ery respect to the one sent to Generals J9nes, Longstreet, and
Bonham — only their movements were subordinate to yours."
• * * "I am fully aware that you did all that could be ex-
pected of you or your command. I merely expressed my re-
gret that my original plan could not be carried into effect, as
it would have been a most complete victory with only half the
trouble and fighting. The true cause of eauntermanding your
forward movement after you had crossed was that it was then
too late, as the enemy were about to annihilate our left flank,
and had to be met and checked there, for otherwise he would
have taken us on the flank and rear, and all would have been
lost." "N. B. — The order sent you at about 8 a. m. to commence
the movement on Centerville was addressed to General Holmes
and yourself, as he was to support you; but being nearer Camp
Pickens, the headquartei^s, than Union Mills, whene you were,
it was to be communicated to him first, and then to you ; but he
has informed me that it never reached him." Thus wrote Gen-
eral Beauregard to General Ewell five days after the battle. If
1 understand the points of General Johnston's objections to my
rendering of the facts here given, they are these : First. That I
err in representing the giving of the orders to advance the right
and center as occurring when the Yankee attack on the left
was developed; whereas, says General Johnston, they were
then countermanded. (10:30 a. m. is the hour he gives.) And
second. That I disparage General Beauregard by representing

76 REPLY OF E I-. DABNEr, D D.

him as doing a foolish and ruinous thing, which, had he done
it, would have kept six brigades out of the fight, and surely lost
the day. Now, the reader should note that it is not I, but Gren-
eral Johnston, who gives 10:30 a. m. as the earliest hour at
which headquarters knew where the main Yankee attack was
to be. (I, for my part, should not have dreamed of making so
disparaging a statement.) I didn't presume to mention the
hour. But I represented General B. as still entertaining the
purpose of advancing his right and center after it was perceived
our left was to be the main point of attack, and as the best
means of relieving it. Does not General Beauregard's letter
bear me out? General J. says General B. could not have list-
ened for the thunder of his batteries on the heights of Center-
ville, for none was sent there. Does not General B.'s letter de-
clare that he thought he had sent some there? Last, says Gen-
eral J., six brigades would have been kept out of the fight.
These six were Holmes's, Ewell's, Early's, Jones's, Longstreet's,
and Bonham's. I reply, (5) five were kej>t out. Early's was the
only one of the six actually engaged on the left. Holmes's, the
only one of the rest which reached the ground, was in position,
but did not fire a musket. But take General Johnston's own
figures, which show that at hal/-past 10 o'clock a. m. he learned,
at once, that the orders for the advance of the right and center
had miscarried, and that the main Yankee attack was on the
left. Oould not Generals Bonham, Longstreet, Jones, and Ew-
ell, still have marched three miles and a half to Centerville,
having been in readiness to do so since half-past 4 a. m.? Jack-
son held the key to the position on Young's branch until 3 p.
m., and certainly received no aid from these brigades.

5. The next, and doubtless the main jwint with General
Johnston, is the opinion advanced by General Jackson and de-
fended by me — that the pursuit should have been pressed, and
Washington threatened. General Johnston justifies his cav-
alry for not pursuing farther, because, says he, "^it was driven
back by the solid resistance of the United States infantry." In
the same paragraph he says: "The infantry was not required to
continue the pursuit, because it would have been harrassing it
to no purpose. It is well known that infantry unencumbered
by baggage trains can easily escape pursuing infantry." Thus
we are told in the same breath that the Yankee infantry was

REPLY OF E. L. DABNEY, D.D. '37

running »o fast that it was useless for the conquering Confed-
erate infantry to fatigue itself hy trying to overtake it ; and that
the Yankee infantry was at the same time standing so staunchly
as to beat off Radford's regiment of cavalry, and to make attack
by all the Confederate cavalry (J. E. B. Stuart's regiment, etc.)
improper. If the Yankees were making so hold a stand, was not
that a place for the conquering infantry to strike?

But (farther: The Yankee resistance hy which Colonel Rad-,
ford's onset was momentarily arrested (he being temporarily
unsupported) was not solid, and should not have put an end to
the pursuit. The evidence is in a letter from Colonel Delaware
Kemper, of the artillery, now under my eye, which states that
"immediately after the repulse of the enemy's final attack he
accompanied Colonel Kershaw" (who then was followed by his
own and Cash's Sauth Carolina regiment) "in pursuit of the
enemy along the turnpike. About dark we arrived within 300
or 400 yards of the suspension bridge over Cub Run, and found
the fugitives along the turnpike crowding across the hridge,
mingled with the Yankee troops who were retreating hy the
Sudley road, which intersects the turnpike just west of this
bridge. I opened fire upon these masses and elicited no reply ;
but in a few minutes not a Yankee was witUn range, all having
fled towards Centerville, leaving in our hands fifteen or sixteen
pieces of artillery, many wagons, etc." Thus Captain Kemper,
pursued beyond the point at which our cavalry was temporarily
checked, showing that it should have gone on. With reference
to the recalling of infantry from the pursuit to meet an 'imag-
inary advance of Yankees on our extreme right, General John-
ston simply flouts the whole statement, and says:

"No troops were recalled from the chase, and sent, seven or
eight miles, hy night or day, to meet an imaginary enemy."
When the reader considers the following testimony his breath
will prohahly be as nearly taken away hy this as mine was, I
have undter my eye a letter from Colonel R. E. Withers, com-
manding the Eighteenth Virginia regiment, from which I ex-
tract the following words:

"The Eighteenth Virginia was the first regiment which
crossed Bull Run in pursuit, Kershaw's Second South Carolina
and Cash's ESghth South Carolina following almost immediate-
ly. The ofiBcers of these (3) three regiments had a rapid con-

78 REPLY OF R. L. DaBNEY, D D.

sultation, and agreed upon the mode of advance, and speedily
put the men in motion, moving by columns of companies on
each side of the pike. Before proceeding very far, however, 1
received, through an oflBcer of General Beauregard's staff, an
order of recall, directing me to march my-pegiment back to the
Stone bridge. About the time we reached the 'bridge another
officer rode up, and inquired as to the condition of my regiment
and its capacity for further service. My reply was that the
men were wearied and hungry, but that the Idss of the regi-
ment in battle had not exceeded forty or fifty, and that we
were ready to perform any duty which might be deemed neces-
sary. He then told me that 'the General' had just received in-
formation that a heavy column of the enemy was advancing in
the direction of Union Mills, threatening an attack on Manas-
sas junction, and as all the troops had been withdrawn frDm
that place, it was in great danger. This was just 'before sun-
set. We immediately started for Manassas, and pushed forward
as rapidly as the exhausted condition of the men would permit.
When we reached the 'McLean House,' near Manassas, we were
met by orders directing us to go to Camp Walker, on Bull Run
a short distance above Union Mills; which 'place we reached
a'bout midnight. The next morning we were ordered back to
Manassas, and thence to our former position near Ball's ford,
on Bull Run, where we bivouacked in the rain, and remained
until Tuesday evening, or Wednesday morning. • • « x
presumed that several other regiments received orders similar,
as thay also were marched back to Manassas, and one or two of
fliem to Camp Walker." So far Colonel Withers. Colonel H.
A. Carrington, then of the Eighteenth Virginia, says: "We, af-
ter sunset, marched seven miles in the direction of our lines on
the right, when the rumored advance proved to be unfounded,
and the regiment was permitted to rest for the night. The next
day, in a drenching rain, we were marched back to the battle-
field, and camped on the banks of Bull Run within one-quarter
of a mile of the scene of conflict."

With reference to the question of pursuit and of threaten-
ing Washington City, let us first consider how far my positiDn
extends. On page 236 this is very distinctly defined in the fol-
lowing words: "They (the generals) are not to be condemned by
history because they did not take Washington, but because

REPLT OF R. L. DABNET. » D. 79

they didn't try." Even this qualified opinion I should never
have presumed to advance before the public on my own judg-
ment or. on that of the amateur soldiers and newspaper critics,
whom General Johnston so justly despises. It was only when
I was confirmed in it hy the great authority o-f General Jack-
son that I ventured to advance it; and my motive was only to
defend his credit, after stating, as the truth of history compelled
me to do, the fact of his expressing such opinions. ^ It was in
May or June, 1862, that, being alone with General Jackson in
his quarters, I ventured to mention the general expectation and
desire of our troops at Manassas to endeavor at onoe to im-
prove our victory, and to ask him whether that desire was ig-
norant and foolish. His hrow immediately knit, and striking
Ms little writing table with his hand, he replied: "The neglect
of the attempt was a deplorable blunder. Did you know, that
on the morning after the battle 10,000 fresh troops reached
Manassas, expecting nothing hut to be led against the enemy?"
I replied:

"I myself saw large arrivals, for I had gone with our
wounded from the battlefield to the Junction, and witnessed the
coming in of neariy a mile of cars clustered with soldiers like
swarming bees, all cheering and shouting, but I did not know
how many of them there were." General Jackson said : "Yes,
sir, there were ten thousand of them." He then proceeded
briefly, hut emphatically, to state the leading ideas on which I
grounded the discussion in my 'book. As my word may go for
nothing in this matter, I may here say in passing that if any
one doubts whether I represent General Jackson's opinion
aright herein, he can satisfy himself hy resorting to the Hon.
Alexander Boteler, to whom General Jaekson expressed sub-
stantially the same view in July, 1862, at Harrison's landing.
General Johnston thinks that had Jackson estimated the policy
at Manassas as I represent him, he could not have refrained
from expostulating. All I can say is, that I heard him say what
I -have above stated. Four days after the battle (he being then
under General Johnston's orders), I heard some one ask him
the question why the enemy were not pressed? when he replied,
with a quiet smile, and a caution which suppressed even the
faintest intimation of his private opinion on his countenance,
"You will have to ask that of General Johnston." But in 1862

80 ftEPLY Of R. L. DABNEt, D.t).

I heard General Jackson, when no longer under his orders, ex-
press the strong dissent stated above. I suppose the explana-
tion is to be found in his well known subordination, silence,
and modesty towards superiors. And if I have been in error
as to the number of fresh troops, the mistake was General Jack-
son's, and not mine. The same fact may account, in part, for
the statement, on page 239, that the Confederate forces had
grown in autumn to an aggregate of 60,000. Has General
Johnston, after all, denied this? It is not my purj)ose so much
to argue the policy of pursuing our victory at first Manassas
as to exhibit the supposed evidences of facts claimed in my
narrative. But it may be said that if the opinion supported in
my book is erroneous, it is an error which is found in very large
and very good company. It finds plausibility in tbe exalted
authority of Oeneral Jackson. I have never conversed with
more than one intelligent Southerner who did not share it with
me. It receives countenance from many of high authority
among our conquerors. Many readers will recall, for example,
the admission of the Yankee Brigadier-General Prentice, cap-
tured by General Beauregard at Shiloh, who frankly declared
that in failing to improve our victory at Manassas we had lost
our opportunity; that the United States had just then reached
the temporary limit of their existing munitions and means;
that the temper of the nation would probably not have en-
dured farther disaster; but that now all was changed, and our
chance had passed away. The common sense of the people,
NortU and South, reasoned that if the Confederates could not
(for some reason, whatever it might be) so improve the hour
of most brilliant success as to cripple the powers of their ad-
versary for future aggression, then obviously their gallantry
must be vain in the end, and must fail before superior num-
bers. It was this thought which encouraged the North as tbey
recovei-ed fro.m their fright. It was this which filled thought-
ful men with foreboding among us. General Johnston points
to the failure of the invasions of 1862 and. 1863 as proofs that
he judged wisely. I point to the fact that Generals Lee and
Jackson and the Government judged successes should thus be
followed up as proof that the same opinion was not absurd in
1861. I point also to the fact that the invasions of 1862 and
1863 both came very near being successful. The former, ac-

REPLY OF K. T,. DABNKT, D.t). 81

cording to the best officers, was only defeated hy the straggling
of cur soldiers. TBe latter brought the Yankee empire to the
vcrgi- of ruin, as they very plainly felt at the time. Hut my
chief answer here is that the case of 1861 was wholly different
from the two subsequent, and the reasoning from them to it is
very much as though one should argue that because in two
cases com planted in November did not thrive, therefore he did
right to neglect planting in April. In 1862 and 1863 the Yan-
kees had had time to prepare and to equalize their inferior ma-
terial to arms by drill and experience. In 18G1, when both
were inexperienced, was the time for us to employ our superior
morale. General Johnston, referring to our victories at second
Manassas, Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville, says: "On
these occasions the forces defeated were ten times as numerous
as those repulsed on the 21st of July, 1861, and their losses
twenty times as great." He has told us that McDowell brought
40,000 against him. Does he mean to say that Burnside or
Hooker had, either of them, 400,000? McDowell's loss was es-
timated by Gieneral Beauregard at some 4,000. Was Hooker's
80,000? He doubtless uses the words "defeated" and "repulsed"
intentionally. Did Hooker or Burnside retire across the Bap-
pahannock in so much greater disorder than McDowell fled to
the P'Otomac? But to the facts: General Johnston declared
that the troops could not have been subsisted on the country
of the vicinage in an advance on Alexandria, because the army
of McDowell, passing over it twice, had doubtless stripped it
hare. He forgets that this army was commanded by Gen'eral
Scott, who, recreant as he was to his native land, did not con-
duct war on savage methods; that he sent out his troops fully
supplied for the march; and that their flight was top fright-
ened and rapid for foraging. The fact is, that they left the
resources of the vicinage untouched. It was on my return to
Centerville after the battle that I found a herd of sixty beeves
on a farm a mile from the village, which had been precluded
from their intended market in Alexandria by the hostilities.
And I have the testimony of Colonel Moshy that the neighbor-
hood would then have abundaiitly supplied a marching army.
As to distance, the engineers of the Orange and Alexandria
railroad state that Manassas junction is twenty-seven miles
froim Alexandria. The distance by turnpike is not much dif-

82 REPLY OF R. L. DABNET, D.D.

ferent; and the Stone bridge is by that road nearer Alexandria
than is the junction. My estinaate of the disorganized condi-
tion of the Yanltee troops after the battle is denied on the au-
thority of the reports of their general officers; and we are told
of three divisions unscathed of battle. Xiet the reader con-
sider if my impressions were not excusable in view of the fol-
lowing facts: First. The public has not yet forgotten the
lively descriptions of Mr. Russel, the correspondent of the Lon-
don Times, by whose truthful pictures the Yankees were so in-
tensely mortified. He was surely not a mere heedless, unpro-
fessional relator like me. He had carefully studied, as an eye-
witness, the great operations of the Crimean war. Next, I will
g'ive some facts which will show the real condition of the Yan-
kee reserves, and of those bodies of their troops which are' re-
ported as having retired in so steady and orderly a manner.
In a letter from Colonel Del. Kemper, relating to his pursuit
above mentioned, are the following words: "I subsequently
learned that these troops were under General Bumside, who
claimed that they were retiring in good order until the artil-
lery fire above spoken of created the stampede, which he did
not pretend to deny. Their failure to respond to my fire makes
me doubt their previous good order." A mile south of Center-
ville lived (and I hope still lives) an excellent gentleman named
Thomas S-tuart, whose Christian hospitalities many a sick and
hungry Confederate blessed. He remained on his own premises
the whole of Sunday, the 21st. He told me that when the
stream of fugitives and vehicles came back, a. reserve division
of Federal infantry was drawn up across his fields; that as the
confusion increased the.y began to waver; that they were then
broken merely by the influence of their own comrades' flight,
and about sunset they joined their rout, flying so precipitately
as to leave his fields scattered over with knapsacks, etc., in
such quantity that on the morrow, he and his servants turning
out in the rain, hauled in a granary full of them for the Con-
federate officers. Yet no armed Confederate had come within
cannon shot of these brave reserves. Mr. Stuart was visited by
numerous Confederate officers on Monday, and in fact arrested
by one of them in a moment of misunderstanding, and rudely
carried to the guard-house at Manassas. Is it said such facts
were not known at headquarters? I reply by the question:

REPLY OF E L. DABNEY, D. D. 83

Ought not headquarters to have been better informed
than an obscure person like me? Do not commanders employ
efBcient scouts? Again, General McDowell, on his return to
Centerville, called together his general officers and advised
with them. After debate, it was resolved to fall back on the
lines of Arlington. But when the generals separated, and went
to the places where their several divisions had been ordered to
bivouack, they found them all silent and vacant — their troops
had come to the same conclusion much more promptly. Again,
there was a reserved division advanced to the little village of
Germantown, six miles back of Centerville. This body broke
at the sight of their fugitive comrades, and concluding that
the Confederates, with bloody bayonets, were close behind the
crowd, wisely took the road ahead of their brethren, instead of
letting them pass and covering their retreat. I quote again
from Colonel Kemper: "Soon after the close of the war, I re-
turned to my home in Alexandria, Va., and learned from gen-
tlemen, residents of that city, that no considerable body of men
returned to Alexandria from Manassas in a state of organiza-
tion ; and that the garrisons of at least some of the forts cover
ing Alexandria and Washington spiked their guns in expecta-
tion of the coming of the Confederates."

I trust that, with such statements before me, I may be
pardoned for believing notwithstanding Yankee assertions,
that their army was disorganized.

With reference to the fortifications at Washington, J:he
navigable river, and the ships-of-war, I presume that the ex-
pectation entertained by sensible men, who hoped that an at-
tempt would be made to improve our success, was that »o lu-
cidly explained as his own by Colonel Mosby. It was, not that
we should sit down in Alexandria, to be pelted out toy ships^f-
war, nor that we should stupidly besiege forts without a siege
apparatus, but that, remembering the Potomac ceases to be a
navigable river at Washington, and that the forts on the north
and east sides of the city had no existence until afterwards, un-
der McClellan, we should do what Lee and Jackson did in 1862
— promptly cross above Washington, avail ourselves of our su-
periority of cavalry (McDowell had but six companies^ almost
totally disorganized, at the first collision, Jrtly 18th), place our-
selves between the city and the routed army and General Pat-

84 RKPLT OF R. L. Da6NET, D. D.

terson, and effectually interrupt the railroad lines to Washing-
ton, while we put ourselves in oommunication with the South-
em party in Baltimore. // was this which we hoped to see al-
tempted; and we thought that there was enough reason to hope
that it would result in the hurried evacuation of Washington,
and so, in great political and moral results, to indicate the pol-
icy of a prompt and vigorous experiment.

This leads to the question of fact as to the expectation ac-
tually prevalent in the army. General Johnston does not "■he-
lieve that this bombast was really uttered in the army." (The
allusion is to the passage on p. 233. The rhetoric I relinquish
undefended, as becomes a decorous author at the bar of criti-
cism; and the more cheerfully as it is not my own. The fact is,
that / heard this very simile uttered by one of the ablest and
most enlightened men in Virginia, and connected with the
army. It so struck my uncultivated taste that when, long .af-
ter, the narrative was written it ran off the end of my pen
spontaneously.) He was led to believe that our troops thought
the war finished, and so went home without leave in crowds.
My impression was that the men wished to pursue their suc-
cess; that the desire to go home was a consequence and not a
cause of the inaction which followed. Let tbe reader see if this
impression was not natural, with such testimonies as the fol-
lowing. Colonel Kemper: "In regard to the sentiment of the
army on the subject of the failure to pursue our routed enemy,
I can speak positively only of my own deep disappointment,
but will add my belief that the disappointment was shared by
all my acquaintances, and prevailed entirely throughout the
army. We had not then learned that the whole duty of an army
is to obey orders and ask no questions. The widely-extended
disposition to go home, so justly represented by our generals,
was, I believe, developed by the conviction which necessarily
soon became prevalent that the campaign was ended."

Colonel Robert E. Withers, of the Eighteenth Virginia,
writes : "I can only say that so far as I was cognizant of the
wishes and expectations of the troops, they certainly anticipat-
ed and desired a speedy advance on Washington; and it was
only after the lapse of some days, when it was evident that no
such advance was contemplated, that the demoralizations and
desertions became so troublesome. Such was certainly the case

REPLY OF B. L. DABNET, D. D. 85

in our brigade, and I have good reason to believe that the same
condition of things existed in other portions of the army. In
this connection I will state that I have just had a conversation
with Colonel Mosby on this subject, who coincides fully in my
opinion, and states that when the cavalry was advanced to
Fairfax Courthouse on Tuesday (the second day after the bat-
tle). General Elzey's brigade accompanied the cavalry advance,
and were in an eflScient and serviceable condition, appareutly
anxious for a rapid advance on Washington. Colbnel Mosby
also believes that if the entrenchments in front of Washington
should have proven too formidable to encounter, no difficulty
would have been experienced in compelling the evacuation of
the city by a flank movement, crossing the Potomac above
Washington, thus interposing our army between Patterson and
the city, and with our cavalry occupying the line of the Balti-
more and Ohio railroad, our great superiority in that arm of the
service would have rendered this movement almost certainly
successful."

Colonel Carrington says: "My firm conviction is that our
army generally favored a prompt and energetic pursuit and Im-
provement of our victory." » * * "The disposition of of-
ficers and men to return home was very strong after they be-
came satisfied that there would be no onward movement," etc.
Thus, also, testifies a letter from Dr. Richard P. Walton, then
a surgeon in the field.

One more point remains to be noticed. General Johnston
says: "No troops were then encamped in the valley of Bull
Run, or nearer to the battlefield than four or five miles. The
dead had been buried, so that ladies visited the field without
inconvenience."

If the "then" relates to the date of greatest mwtality, this
may be true. But I was possessed of testimonies which I
thought justified me in believing that the opposite was true
long enough to do the mischief to the health of the troops. The
dead men had been buried, but the horses had not. The ani-
mal remains of Yankee camps, as well as slain men and ani-
mals, infected the country for miles.

Then as to the facts : We have seen that Colonel Carring-
ton states the Eighteenth Virginia encamped until Tuesday
evening "within quarter of a mile of the scene of the conflict,"

86 REPLY OF E. L. DABNEY, D.D.

Then Cocke's whole brigade was encamped for more than a
week at Cub Run bridge, just where the battle ended, in the
midst of a painful effluvium. Colonel Carrington says : "Sev-
eral other brigades besides Cocke's were encamped in the im-
mediate vicinity of the battlefield."

It is perfectly true that after the health ot the regiments
was infected, many of them were removed to healthier spots.
But both the sickness and the mortality continued great. Let
such facts as these show the condition of at least a part of the
array. The lamented General Chavles S. Winder told me in
May or June, 1862, that he came to the lines of General John-
ston after the battle as Colonel commanding a South Carolina
regiment 900 strong. He was directed to stop at Bristoe and
encamp at Broad Run. He staid there until the fever had
made such ravages that the most he could parade were 300.
In the same brigade with the Thirty-eighth Virginia was a
North Carolina regiment. In this there were not enough well
men to nurse the sick, and details were made from other regi-
ments to help them. The Eighteenth Virginia went to Manas-
sas with 700 bayonets. In August, according to report of the

surgeon, it was reduced to . It was only once under fire,

and the maximum of its loss at that time has been already giv-
en in the citation from Colonel Withers.

But it is time that this communication was closed, and T
end it with repetitions of respectful consideration for the em-
inent services, virtues, and position of General J. Two reasons
aloife have induced me to break that silence in reply to which
is usually the most decorous for an author whose published
works are subjected to criticism. One is the interest of truth;
the other is the interest of the widow and orphan of GJeneral
Jackson; for I might well fear that the adverse opinion of so
eminent an authority as General Joseph E. Johnston would
limit, if not wholly arrest, the sale of the work which is design-
ed to aid in relieving these defenseless persons. While, on the
one hand, it would be unprincipled in me. to seek their pecun-
iary advantage at the expense of the jnst fame of General John-
ston, or any other; on the other hand, I am sure that he would
regret any unintentional injury to the prospects which was not
necessary to the defense of truth. R. L. DABNEY.

MEMOIR OF A NARRATIVE RECEIVED OF
COLONEL JOHN B. BALDWIN,'

OF STAUNTON, TOUCHING THE ORIGIN OF THE WAR.

By Eev. E. L. Dabney, D. D.

(The following paper from the able pen of Bev. Dr. B. L.
Dabney will be read with deep interest, and will be found to be
a valuable contribution to the history Df the origin of .the war.

It may be worth while in this connectidn to recall the fact
that when soon after the capture of Port Sumter and Mr. Lin-
coln's proclamation, a prominent Northern pDlitician wrote
Colonel Baldwin to ask: "What will the Union men of Vir-
ginia do now?" he immediately replied: ^"^ There are now no
Union men in Virginia. But those who were UniDn men will
stand tD their arms, and make a fight which shall go down in
history as an illustration of what a brave people can do in de-
fense of their liberties, after having exhausted every means of
pacification.")

In March, 1865, being with the army in Petersburg, Vir-
ginia, I had the pleasure of meeting Colonel Baldwin at a small
entertainment at a friend's house, where he conversed with me
some two hours on public affairs. During this time, he detail-
ed tD me the history of his private mission, from the Virginia
Secession Convention, to Mr. Lincoln in April, 1861. The facts
he gave me have struck me, especially since the conquest of
the South, as of great importance in a history of th§ origin of
the war. It was my earnest hope that Colonel Baldwin would
reduce them into a narrative for publication, and I afterwards
took measures to induce him to do so, but I fear without effect.
Should it appear that he has left such a narrative, while it will
confirm the substantial fidelity of my narrative at second hand,
it will also supersede mine, and of this result I should be ex-
tremely glad. Surviving friends and political associates of
Colonel Baldwin must have heard him narrate the same inter-

\ From cfoufAem Sietoncal Society Papem. ***

88 COLONEL Baldwin's intbuview with me. Lincoln.

esting facts. I would earnestly invoke their recollection of his
statements to them, so as to oorrect me, if in any point I mis-
conceived the author, and to confirm me where I am correct, so
that the history may regain, as far as possible, that full cer-
tainty of which it is in danger of losing a part by the lamented
death of Colonel Baldwin. What I here attempt to do, is to
give faithfully, in my own language, what I understood Colonel
Baldwin to tell me, according to my best comprehension of it.
His narration was eminently perspicuous and impressive.

It should als3 be premised, that the Virginia Convention,
as a body, was not in favor of secession. It was prevalently
under the influence of statesmen of the school known as the
"Clay-Whig." One of the few original secessionists told me
that at first there were but twenty-five members of that opin-
ion, and that they gained no accessions, until they were given
them by the usurpations of the Inncoln party. The Conven-
tion assembled with a fixed determination to preserve the
Union, if forbearance and prudence could do it consistently
with the rights of the States. Such, as is well known, were, in
the main. Colonel Baldwin's views and purposes.

But Mr. Lincoln's inaugural, with its hints of coercion and
usurpation, the utter failure of the "Peace-Congress," and the
rejection of Mr. Crittenden's overtures, the refusal to hear the
commissioners from Mr. Bavis' Government at Montgomery,
and the secret arming of the Federal G-overnment for attack,
had now produced feverish apprehensions in and out of the
Convention. Colonel Baldwin considered Mr. Wm. Ballard
Preston, of Montgomery County, as deservedly one of the most
influential members of that body. This statesman now began
to feel those sentiments, which, soon after, prompted him to
move and secure the passage of the resolution to appoint a
formal commission of three ambassadors from the Convention
to Lincoln's Government, who should communicate the views
of Virginia, and demand those of Mr. Lincoln. (That commis-
sion consisted of Wm. B. Preston, Alex. H. H. Stuart and Geo.
W. Randolph. We will refer to its history in the sequel.) Mean-
time Mr. Preston, with other original I'nion men, were feeling
thus: "If our voices and votes are to be exerted farther to
hold Virginia in the Union, we musi know what the nature of
that Union is to be. We have valued Union, but we are also

ooLOXTKii Baldwin's intkkview with mk. lijmooln. 89

Virginians, and we love the Union only as it is based upon the
Constitution. If the power of the United States is to be per-
verted to invade the rights of States and of the people, we
would support the Federal Government no farther. And now
that the attitude of that Government was so ominous of usur-
pation, we must linow whither it is going, or we can go with it
no farther." Mr. Preston especially declared that if he were
to become an agent for holding Virginia in the Union to the
destruction of her honor, and of the liberty of her people and
her sister States, he would rather die than exert that agency.

Meantime Mr. Seward, Lincoln's Secretary of State, sent
Allen B. Magruder, Esq., as a confidential messenger to Rich-
mond, to hold an interview with Mr. Janney (President of the
Convention), Mr. Stuart, and other influential members, and
t3 urge that one of them should come to Washington, as
promptly as possible, to confer with Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Magrud-
er stated that he was authorized by Mr. Seward to say that
Fort Sumter would be evacuated on the Friday of the ensuing
weeli, and that the Pawnee would sail on the following Monday
for Charleston, to effect the evacuation. Mr. Seward said that
secrecy was all important, and while it was extremely desira-
ble that one of them should see Mr. Lincoln, it was equally im-
portant that the public shoulid know nothing of the interview.
These gentlemen held a conference, and determined that as
each of them was well known in Washington by person, the
required secrecy could not be preserved if either of them went.
They therefore asked Colonel Baldwin to go, furnished with
the necessary credentials to Mr. Lincoln. He at first demurred,
saying that all his public services had been to Virginia, and
that he knew nothing of Washington and the Federal politics,
but they replied that this was precisely what qualified him, be-
cause his presence there would not excite remark or suspicion.
Calonel Baldwin accordingly agreed to the mission, and went
with Mr. Magruder the following night, reaching Washington
the next morning by the "Acquia Creek route" a little after
dawn, and driving direct to the house of Mr. Magruder's broth-
er. (These gentlemen were brothers of General J. B. Magruder,
of Virginia.) These prefatory statements prepare the way for
Colonel Baldwin's special narrative.

He stated that after breakfasting and attending to his

90 COLONEL BALDWIN'S INTERVIEW WITH MR. LINCOLN.

toilet at the house of Captain Magruder, he went with Mr. A.
B. Magruder, in a carriage, with the glasses carefully raised,
to Seward, who took charge of Mr. Baldwin, and went direct
with him to the White House, reaching it, he thought, not much
after nine o'clock a. m. At the door, the man who was acting
as usher, or porter, was directed by Colonel Baldwin's com-
panion, to inform the President that a gentleman wished to see
him on important business. The man replied, as Colonel Bald-
win thought, with an air of negligence, that he would report
the application of cDurse, but that it would be useless, because
the President was already engaged with very important per-
sonages. Some card, or such missive, was given him, and he
look it in. He soon returned with a surprised look, and said
that the gentleman was to be admitted instantly. Colonel Bald-
win accordingly followed him and Mr. Seward into what he pre-
sumed was the President's ordinary business room, where he
found him in evidently anxious consultation with three or four
elderly men, who appeared to wear importance in their aspect.
Mr. Seward whispered something to the President, who at once
arose with eagerness, and without making any movement to
introduce Colonel Baldwin, said bluntly, in substance: "Gien-
tlemen, excuse me, for I must talk with this man at once. Come
this way, sir!" (to Colonel Baldwin). He then took him up
stairs to quite a different part of the house, and into what was
evidently a private sleeping apartment. There was a handsome
bed, with bureau and mirror, washstand, etc., and a chair or
two. .Lincoln closed the door and locked it. He then said:
''Well, I suppose this is Colonel Baldwin, of Virginia? I have
hearn of you a good deal, and am glad to see you. How d' ye,
do sir?" Colonel Baldwin presented his note of credential or
introduction, which Lincoln read, sitting upon the edge of the
bed, and spitting from time to time on the carpet. He then,
looking inquiringly at Colonel Baldwin, intimated that he un-
derstood he was authorized to state for his friends in the Vir-
ginia Convention the real State of opinion and purpose there.
Tpon Colonel Baldwin's portraying the sentiments which pre-
vailed among the majority there, Lincoln said querulously:
"Yes! your Virginia people are good Unionists, but it is al-
ways with an if! I don't like that sort of Unionism." Colonel
Baldwin firmly and respectfully explained, that in one sense

OOLOMEL Baldwin's intkrview with mk. lijnooln. 91

no freeman could be more than a conditional Union man, for
the value of the Union was in that equitable and beneficent
Constitution on which it was founded, and if this were lost,
"Union" might become but another name for mischievous op-
pression. He also gave Mr. Lincoln assurances, that the de-
scription which he was making of the state of opinion in Vir-
ginia, was in perfect candor and fidelity, and that he might rest
assured the great body of Virginia, in and out of the Conven-
tion, would concur in these views, viz : That although strongly
opposed to a presidential election upon a sectional, free-soil
platform, which they deplored as most dangerous and unwise,
Virginia did not approve of making that, evil as it was, a
casus belli, or a ground for disrupting the Union. That much
as Virginia disapproved it, if Mr. Lincoln would only adhere
faithfully to the Constitution and the laws, she would support
him just as faithfully as though he were the man of her choice,
and would wield her whole moral force to keep the border
States in the Union, and to bring back the seven seceded States.
But that while much difference of opinion existed on the ques-
tion, whether the right of secession was a constitutional one,
all Virginians were unanimous in believing that no right ex-
isted in the Federal Grovernment to coerce a State by force of
arms, because it was lexpresisJy withheld by the Constitution;
that the State of Virginia was unanimously resolved not to
asquiesce in the usurpation of that power, as had been declared
by unanimous joint resoljition of her present Legislature, and
by the sovereign Convention now sitting, according to the tra-
ditionary principles of the State; that if Virginia remained in
the Union, the other border States would follow her example,
wliile, if she were driven out, they would probably go with her,
and the whole South would be united in irreconcilable "hostility
to his G-overnment; and that the friends of peace desired to have
a guarantee that his policy towards the seven seceded States
would be pacific, and would regard their rights as States; with-
out which guarantee the Convention could not keep the people
in the Union, even if they would.

Lincoln now showed very plainly that this view was dis-
tasteful to him. He intimated that the people of the South
were not in earnest in all this. He said that in Washington he
was assured that all the resolutions and speeches and declara-

92 COLONEL BALDWIN'S INTERVIEW WITH MB. LINCOLN.

tions of this tenor from the South were but a "game of brag,"
intended to intimidate the administratiDn party, the ordinary
and hollow expedient of politicians; that, in short, when the
Government showed its hand, there would "be nothing in it
but talk." Colonel Baldwin assured him solemnly that such
advisers fatally misunderstood the South, and especially Vir-
ginia, and that upon the relinquishment or adoption of the pol-
icy of violent coercion, peace or a dreadful war would inevita-
bly turn. Lincoln's native good sense, with Colonel Baldwin's
evident sincerity, seemed now to open his eyes to this truth.
He slid off the edge of the bed, and began to stalk in his awk-
ward manner across the cham'ber, in great excitement and per-
plexity. He clutched his shaggy hair, as though he would jerk
out handfuls by the roots; he frowned and contorted his fea-
tures, exclaiming: "I ought to have known this sooner! You
are toD late, sir, too late! Why did you not come here four
days ago, and tell me all this?" turning fiercely upon Colonel
Baldwin. He replied: "Why, Mr. President, you did not ask
our advice. Besides, as soon as we received permission to ten-
der it, I came by the first train, as fast as steam would bring
me." "Yes, but you are too late, I tell you, too late'." Colonel
Baldwin understood this as a clear intimation that the policy
of CDercion was determined on, and that within the last four
days. He said that he therefore felt impelled, by a solemn
sense of duty to his cauntry, to make a final effort for impress-
ing Lincoln with the truth. "Never," said he to me, "did I
malK a speech on behalf of a client, in jeopardy of his life, with
such earnest solemnity and endeavor." "And," he added,
"there was no simulated emotions ; for when he perceived from
Lincoln's hints, and from the workings of his crafty and satur-
nine countenance, the truculence of his purpose, his own soul
was filled with such a sense of the coming miseries of the coun-
try, and of the irreparable ruin of the Constitution, that he felt
he would willingly lay down his life t3 avert them." He en-
deavored to make the President feel that Providence had placed
the destiny of the country in his hands, so that he might be
forever blessed and venerated as the second Washington — the
savior of his country — or execrated as its destroyer. What
policy, then, did the Union men of Virginia advise? We be-
lieve, answered Colonel Baldwin, that one single step will be

Colonel Baldwin's iNtERriKW with Mr. lXnOoln. 93

sufficient to paralyze the secession movement, and to make the
true friends of the Union masters of the situation. This was a
simple proclamation, firmly pledging the new administration
to respect the Constitution and laws, and the rights of the
States; to repudiate the power of coercing seceded States hy
force of arms; to r^ly upon conciliation and enlightened seW-
interest in the latter to hring them hack into the Union, and
meantime to leave all questions at issue to he adjudicated by
the constitutional trihunals. The ohvious ground of this pol-
icy was in the fact that it was not the question of free-soil
which threatened to rend the country in twain, but a well
grounded alarm at the attempted overthrDw of the Constitu-
tion and liherty, hy the usurpation of a power to crush States.
The question of free-soil had no such importance in the eyes of
the people of the border States, nor even of the seceded States,
as to became at once a casus belli. But, in the view of all par-
ties in the border States, the claim of coercion had infinite im-
portance. If, as Mr. Lincoln had argued, secession was uncon-
stitutional, coercion was more clearly so. Wheri attempted, it
must necessarily take the form of a war of some States against
other States. It was thus the death-knell of constitutional
Union, and so a thorough revolution of the Federal Grovern-
ment. It was the overthrow of the reserved rights of the States,
and these were the only bulwark of the liherty of the i>eople.
This, then, was the real cause of alarm at the South, and not
the claim of free-soil, unjust as was the latter; hence, all that
was necessary to reduce the free-soil controversy to harmless
and manageable dimensions, was to reassure the South against
the dreaded usurpation of which free-soil threatened to he made
the pretext. This, Colonel Baldwin showed, oould easily be
done by a policy of conciliation, without giving sanction to
what Mr. Lincoln's administration chose to regard as the heresy
of secession ! The GSiovemment would still hold the Union and
the Constitution as perpetual, and the separate attitude of the
seceded States as temporary, while it relied upon moderation,
justice, self-interest of the Southern people, and the potent
mediation of the border States to terminate it. "Only give this
assurance to the country, in a proclamation of five lines," said
Colonel Baldwin, "and we pledge ourselves that Virginia (and
with her the border States) will stand by you as though you

94 COLONBt BAJ.DWIn's interview WITti MR MNCOtN.

were our own Washington. So sure am I," he added, "of this,
and of the inevitable ruin which will be precipitated by the op-
posite policy, that I would this day freely consent, if you would
let me write those decisive lines, you might cut oflf my head,
were my life my own, the hour after you signed them."

Lincoln seemed impressed by his solemnity, and asked a
few questions: "But what am I to do meantime with those
men at Montgomery? Am I to let them go on?" "Yes, sir."
replied Colonel Baldwin, decisively, "until they can be peace-
ably brought back." "And open Charleston, etc., as ports of
entry, with their ten per cent, tariff. What, then , would be-
come of my tariff?" This last question h6 announced with such
emphasis, as showed that in his view it decided the whole mat-
ter. He then indicated that the interview was at an end, and
dismissed Colonel Baldwin, without promising anything more
definite.

In order to confirm the accuracy of my own memory, I
have submitted the above narrative to the Honorable A. H. H.
Stuart, Colonel Baldwin's neighbor and political associate, and
the only surviving member of the commission so9n after sent
from the Virginia Convention to Washington. In a letter to
me, he says: "When Colonel Baldwin returned to Richmond,
he reported to the four gentlemen above named, and to Mr.
Samuel Price, of Greenbrier, the substance of hit interview with
Lincoln substantially as he stated it to you?''

I asked Colonel Baldwin what was the explanation of this
remarkable scene, and especially of Lincoln's perplexity. He
replied that the explanation had always appeared to him to be
this: When the seven Gulf States had a.ctually seceded, the
Lincoln faction were greatly surprised and in great uncertainty
what to do ; for they had been blind enough to suppose that all
Southern opposition to a sectional President had been empty
bluster. They were fully aware that neither Constitution nor
laws gave them any right to CDerce a State to remain in the
Union. The whole people, even in the imperious North, knew
and recognized this truth. The New York Tribune, even, ad-
mitted it, violent as it was, and deprecated a Union "pinned to-
gether with bayonets." Even General Winfield Scott, the mili-
tary "Man Friday," of Federal power, ad\-ised that the Govern-
ment should say: "Erring Sisters, go in peace." So strong was

COLONEL Baldwin's interview with mr. Lincoln. 95

the conviction, even In the Northern mind, that such journals as
Harper's Weekly and Monthly, shrewdly mercenary in their
whole aim, were notoriously courting the secession feeling.
New York, the financial capital of America, was well known
to be oppDsed to the faction and to coercion. The previous
Congress had expired without daring to pass any coercive mea-
sures. The administration was not at all certain that the pub-
lic opinion of the American people could be made to tolerate'
anything so illegal and mischievous as a war of coercion. (Sub-
sequent events and declarations betrayed also how well the
lanooln faction knew at the time that it was utterly unlawful.
For instance : when Lincoln launched into that war, he did not
dare to say that he was warring against States, and for the
purpose of coercing them into a Federal Union of force. In
his proclamation calling for the first seventy-five thousand sol-
diers, he had deceitfully stated that they were to be used to
support the laws, to repossess Federal property and places, and
to suppress irregular combinations of individuals pretending
to or usurping the powers of State Governments. The same was
the tone of all the war speakers and war journals at first. They
admitted that a State could not be coerced into the Union; but
they held that no State really and legitimately desired tD go out,
or had gone out — "the great Union-loving majority in the
South had been overruled bj a factious secession minority, and
the Union troops were only to liberate them from that violence,
and enable them to declare their unabated love for the Union."
No well informed man was, at first, absurd enough to speak of
a State as "committing treason" against the confederation, the
creature of the States; the measure was always spoken of as
"Secession," the actors v/ere "Secessionists," and even 'their ter-
ritory was "Secessia." It remained for an ecclesiastical body,
pretended representative of the Church of the Prince of Peace,
in their ignorant and venomous spirit of persecution, to apply
the term "treason" first to the movement in favor of liberty.)
The action of the seven States, then, perplexed the Lincoln fac-
tion excessively. On the other hand, the greed and spite of the
hungry crew, who were now grasping the power and spoils so
long passionately craved, could not endure the thDught that
the prize should thus collapse in their hands. Hence, when
the administration assembled at Washington, it probably had

96 COLONEL Baldwin's interview WitH me. linooLN.

no very definite policy. Seward, wlio assumed to do tlie thinls-
ing for them, was temporizing. Colonel Baldwin supposed it
was the visit, and the terrorizing of the "radical Governors,"
which had just decided Lincoln to adopt the violent policy.
They had especially asserted that the secession of the seven
States, and the convening and solemn admonitions of State con-
ventions in the others, formed but a system of bluster, or, in
the vulgar phrase of Lincoln, but a "game of brag"; that the
Southern States were neither willing nor able to fight for their
own cause, being paralyzed by their fear of servile insurrection.
Thus they had urged upon Lincoln, that the best way to secure
his party triumph was to precipitate a collision. Lincoln had
probably committed himself to this policy, without Seward's
privity, within the last four days; and the very men whom Col-
onel Baldwin found in conclave with him were probably intent
upon this conspiracy at the time. But when Colonel Baldwin
solemnly assured Lincoln that this violent-pollcy would infal-
libly precipitate the border States into an obstinate war, the
natural shrewdness of the latter was sufficient to open his eyes,
at least partially, and he saw that his factious aounsellors,
blinded by hatred and contempt of the South, had reasoned
falsely; yet, having just committed, himself to them, he had not
manliness enough to recede. And above all, the policy urged
by Colonel Baldwin would have disappointed the hopes of leg-
islative plunder, by means of inflated tariffs, which were the
real aims for which free-soil was the mask.

Thus far Colonel Baldwin's narrative proceeded. The con-
versation then turned upon the astonishing supineness (or blind-
ness) of the conservatives, so-called, of the North, to the high-
handed usurpations of their own rights, perpetrated by Lincoln
and Seward, under pretext of subduing the seceded States, such
as the suspension of habeas corpus, the State prisons, the ar-
rests without indictment, and the martial law imposed, at the
beck of the Federal power, in States called by itself "loyal." 1
asked: "Can it be possible that the Northern people are so ig-
norant as to have lost the traditionary rudiments of a free gov-
ernment?" His reply was, th^t he apprehended the Northern
mind really cared nothing for liberty; what they desired was
only lucrative arrangements with other States.

The correctness of Colonel Baldwin's surmises concerning

COLONEL BALDWIN'S INTKRVIEW WITH MR. LINCOLN. d7

the motives of Lincoln's policy receives these two conflrmations.
After the return of the former to Richmond, the Convention
sent the commission, which has been described, composed of
Messrs. Wm. B. Preston, A. H. H. Stuart, and Geo. W. Ran-
dolph. They were to ascertain definitely what the President's
policy was to be. They endeavored to reach Washington in the
early part of the week in which Fort Sumter was bombarded,
but were delayed by storms and high water, so that they only
reached there via Baltimore, Friday, April 12th. They appear-
ed promptly at the White House, and were put off until Satur-
day for their formal interview, although Lincoln saw them for
a short time. On Saturday Lincoln read to them a written an-
swer to the resolutions of Convention laid before him, which
was obviously scarcely dry fr»m the pen of a clerk. "This pa-
per," says Mr. Stuart, "was ambiguous and evasive, but in the
main professed peaceful intentions." Mr. Stuart, in answer to
this paper, spoke freely and at large, "urging forbearance and
the evacuation of the forts, etc." Lincoln made the objection
that all the goods would be imported through the ports of
Charleston, etc., and the sources of revenue dried up. "I re-
member," say&'.Mr. Stuart, "that he used this homely expres-
sion: 'If I do that, what will become of my revenue? I might
as well shut up housekeeping at once!' But his declarations
were distinctly pacific, and he expressly disclaimed all purpose
of war." Mr. Seward and Mr. Bates, Attorney General, also
gave Mr. Stuart the same assurances of peace. The next day
the commissioners returned to Richmond, and the very'train
on which they traveled carried Lincoln's proclamation, calling
far the seventy-flve thousand men to wage a war of coercion.
"This proclamation," says Mr. Stuart, "was carefully withheld
from us, although it was in print; and we knew nothing of it
until Monday morning, when it appeared in the Richmond pa-
pers. When I saw it at breakfast, I thought it must be a mis-
chievous hoax; for I oould not believe Lincoln guilty of such
duplicity. Firmly believing it was a fargery, I wrote a tele-'
gram, at the breakfast table of the Exchange Hotel, and sent
it to Seward, asking him if it was genuine. Before Seward's
reply was received, the Fredericksburg train came in, bringing
the Washington papers, containing the proclamation."

The other confirmation of Colonel Baldwin's hypathesis

98 COLONEL Baldwin's inteevieti^ wits itE. lIncoli^.

was presented a few weeks after the end of the war, in a cur-
ious interview with a personal friend and apologist of Seward.
The first volume of my life of Jackson had been published in
London, in which I characterized the shameless lie told by
Seward to the commissioners from Montgomery, through Judge
Campbell, touching the evacuation of Sumter. This friend and
a]K)logist of Seward said that I was unjust to him, because
when he promised the evacuation, he designed and thought him-
self able to fulfill it; but between the making and breaking of
the pledge, a total change of policy had been forced upon the
administration, against Mr. Seward's advice, "by Thad. Stevens
and the radical Governors." Seward, aboUtionist, and knave
as he was, still retained enough of the statesmanlike traditions
of the better days of the republic, to know that coercion was
unlawful, and that a war between the States was, of course, the
annihilation of the Union. It suited his partisan and' selfish
designs to talk of an "irrepressible conflict," and to pretend
contempt for "effeminate slavocrats" ; but he had sense enough
to know that the South would make a desperate defense at her
rights, and would be a most formidable adversary, if pushed to
the wall. Hence, Mr. Seward, with Gteneral SoDtt, had advised
a temiporizing policy towards the Montgomery government,
without violence, and Mr. Lincoln had acceded to their policy.
Hence, the promises to Judge Campbell. Meantime, the radical
Governors came down, "having great wrath," to terrorize the
administration. They spoke in this strain : "Seward cries per-
petually that we must not do this, and that, for fear war should
result. Seward is shortsighted. War is precisely the thing we
should desire. Our party interests have everything to lose by a
peaceable settlement of this trouble, and everything to gain by
ODllision. For a generation we have been 'the outs'; now at
last we are 'the ins.' While in opposition, it was very well to
prate of Constitution, and of rights; but now we are the gov-
ernment, and mean to continue so; and our interest is to have
a strong and centralized government. It is high time now that
the government were revolutionized and consolidated, and these
irksome 'States' rights' wiped out. We need a strong govern-
ment to dispense much wealth and power to its adherents; we
want permanently high tariffs, to make the South tributary to
the North; and now these Southern fellows are giving us pre-

OOLOHEL BALDWIN'S INTBEVIEW WITH MR. tlKCOLN. 99

cisely the opportunity we want to do all this, and shall Seward
sing his silly song of the necessity of avoiding war? War is the
very thing we should hail! The Southern men are rash, and
now profoundly irritated. Our plan should be, by some artifice,
to provoke them to seem to strike the first blow. Then we
shall have a pretext with which to unite the now divided North,
and make them fly to arms. The Southerners are a braggart,
but a cowardly and effeminate set of bullies; we shaJl easily
whip them in three months. But this short war will be, if we
are wise, our suflicient occasion. We will use it to destroy
slavery, and thus permanently cripple-the South. And that is
the stronghold of all these ideas of 'limited government' and
'rights of the people.' Crush the South, by abolishing slavery,
and we shall have all we want — a consolidated government, an
indefinite party ascendancy, and ability to lay on such tariffs
and taxes as we please, and aggrandize ourselves and our sec-
tion!"

These, Mr. Seward's apologist declared to me, were the
reasons which, together with their predictions and threats of
popular rage, converted Lincoln from the policy of Seward to
that of Stevens. Hence the former was compelled to break hi«
promise through Judge Campbell, and to assist in the malig-
nant stratagem by which the South Carolinians were con-
strained "to fire on the flag." The diabolical success of the ar-
tifice is well known.

The importance of this narrative is, that it unmasks the
true authors and nature of the bloody war, through which we
have passed. We see that the Madicals provoked it, not to pre-
serve, hut to destroy the Union. It demonstrates, effectually,
that Virginia and the border States were acting with better
faith to preserve the Union than was Lincoln's Cabinet. Colonel
Baldwin showed him conclusively that it was not free-soil, evil
as that was, which really endangered the Union, but coercion.
He showed him that, if coercion were relinquished, Virginia
and the border States stood pledged to labor with him lor the
restoration of Union, and would assuredly be able to effect it.
Kight slave-holding border States, with seventeen hireling
States, would certainly have wielded suflicient moral and ma-
terial weight, in the cause of what Lincoln professed to believe
the clear truth and right, to reassure and win back the seven

100 ooLONBL Baldwin's interview with kr. Lincoln.

little seceded States, or, if they became hostile, to restrain
them. But coercion arraigned fifteen against seventeen in mu-
tually destructive war. Lincoln acknowledged the conclusive-
ness of this reasoning in the agony of remorse and perplexity,
in the writhings and tearings of hair, of which Colonel Bald-
win was witness. But what was the decisive weight that turned
the scale against peace, and right, and patriotism? It was the
interest of a sectional tariff! His single objection, both to the
wise advice of Colonel Baldwin and Mr. Stuart, was: "Then
what would become of my tariffs?" He was shrewd enough to
see that the just and liberal free-trade policy proposed by the
Montgomery Crovernment would speedily build up, by the help
of the magnificent Southern staples, a beneficent foreign com-
merce through Confederate ports; that the Northern people,
whose lawless and mercenary character he understood, could
never be restrained from smuggling across the long open fron-
tier of the Confederacy; that thus the whole country would be-
come habituated to the benefits of free-trade, so that when the
schism was healed (as he 'knew it would be healed in a few years
by the policy of Virginia), it would be too late to restore the
iniquitious system of sectional plunder by tariffs, which his sec-
tion so much craved. Hence, when Virginia offered him a safe
way to preserve the Union, he preferred to destroy the Union
and preserve his tariffs. The war was conceived in duplicity,
and brought forth in iniquity.

The calculated treason of Idncoln's Radical advisers is yet
more^laring. When their own chosen leader, Seward, avowed
that there was no need for war, they deliberately and malig-
nantly practiced to produce war, for the purpose of overthrow-
ing the Constitution and the Union, to rear their own greedy
faction upon the ruins. This war, with all its crimes and mis-
eries, was proximately concocted in Washington City, by North-
ern men, with malice prepense.

THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THE CIVIL WAR.

We all know, that the professed purpose of the war party
was to preserve and restore the Union over all the States. But
the disclosures made above by Colonel Baldwin of the aims of
the head of that party, are sufficient to prove that the real pur-
pose wasfarother than the pretense: — to enlarge and perpetuate
the power of his faction. This had just seized the reins of
Federal power by an accident, being in fact but a minority of
the American people. This people had condemned it to a
righteous exclusion from power for forty years. Its leaders
were weary, envious and angry with their long waiting, and
hungry for the power and the spoils of office. These cunning
men were fully conscious that their tenure of power, won by
luck and artifice, would be precarious and brief. The old party
of Federal usurpation and centralization had dubbed itself, by
a strong misnomer, the Whig party. The people, at ten presi-
dential elections, or congressional issues, had rejected their
project. At length, despairing of victory by its old tactics, it
had thrown itself into the arms of the later borii and despicable
party of the Abolitionists, who had at last succeeded in their
purpose of raising, in numerous States, their designed tei»pest
of fanaticism. Thus the older and larger party gave itself
away to the younger, smaller, and more indecent one; and by
this traffic the two had won. in November, 1860, an apparent
success, so far as to make its leader a minority President. The
manipulators well knew their danger from "the sober second
thought" of the American people. It was but too probable
that the elements of justice and conservatism, unfortunately di-
vided in 1860, would reunite in 1864 to restore the Constitu-
tion. Hence, "had they great wrath," because they knew their
time was short. They knew that something more must be done
bo inflame the contest between fanaticism and conservatism, or
their glorying would be short.

The hasty secession of South Carolina and the six Gulf
States, although justified by the avowed revolutionary section-

101

102 THIS TBPJfi PURPOS-WOr TH« CIVIL WAR.

alism of the new party In power, gave them their coveted oppor-
tunity. The conspirators said to each other: "Now we have
our game. We will inflame fanaticism and sectional enmities
by the cry of Union and Rebellion, and thus precipitate a war
between the States. Inter armor silent leges. Our war will
be short; for we believe these Southern slavocrats much more
boastful than valiant; and, chiefly, we will paralyze their re-
sistance by lighting the fires of servile insurrection, plunder,
arson, rape and murder in their rear. But this short war will
suffice for us, to centralize Federal power, overthrow the Con-
stitution, fix our high tariffs and plutocratic fiscal system upon
the country and secure for ourselves an indefinite tenure of
power and riches." Such were precisely the counsels by which
such leaders as Senator Pomeroy, Mr. Thaddeus Stevens, Ghov-
ernors Morton, Curtin, Andrews, etc., hectored the ignorant and
vacillating chief of their party into war, against the adyice of
real Union men North and South, and especially against the
views of his own Premier, William H. Seward. This man,
while the most unscrupulous of trafficers, and the chief archi-
tect of the new faction, knew well, as did all statesmen and
constitutional lawyers, that the Constitution gave the Federal
Government, the creature of the Federated States, no right to
coerce the seceded States, its own sovereigns and creators. He
was older than his supplanters in his own faction, and however
unscrupulous, was too much imbued with the precedents, prin-
ciples and feelings of the older and better days, to bring him-
self at once to the atrocity of kindling a war between the
States ; hence, Mr. Seward had adopted the smoother and wiser
policy. He had induced his chief to make an ambiguons de-
liverance in his inaugural, March 4, 1861. He believed that he
would be able so to direct the plans of his presidential tool as
to make him adhere to the pacific policy. But he was mis-
taken. The more forward and heady conspirators gathered in
Washington, wrested his tool out of his hand, and turned it
against him.

These new advisers were aware that a Federal executive
had no more constitutional or legal right of his own motion to
attack a seceded State, than the poorest constable in the most
obscure township. But they were in too much haste to wait for
the semblance of authority from a congressional force bill, un-

THB TK0E P0BPO8E OP THE OIVIL WAR. 103

authorized and flimsy as sucb a semblance would be. Nor did
they feel certain that even their rump Congress would be per-
suaded to enact a war against sovereign States no longer in
the Federation, nor represented in their body, nor subject to
their jurisdiction. The Senators and Representatives lof seven
States would be absent; but those of the great Union-loving
Border States, North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, Kentucky,
Tennessee, Miss'Duri and Arkansas, would be present. Such a
rump Congress might indeed include a number of the admirers
of Andrew Jackson, but they would be too just and clear sight-
ed to claim the precedent of his force bill of 1833 against
South Carolina, even though they did not regard it, as true
history will, as the mere expression ot a tyrannical temper and
of personal hatreds in that famous renegade to the principles
of the party which elected bim. For that force bill was direct-
ed against a State which claimed to be still in the Union, while
nullifying within her own bordeia an unjust Federal law. It
was wholly another thing for the Federal Government t9 de-
clare war against seven seceded States, no longer under their
authority, but withdrawn from it by sovereign acts more for-
mal and legal than those which had made them parties to the
Union. Therefore the conspirators saw that a war must be
precipitated withDut the semblance of law, and against law and
the Constitution. By what expedient? By that of an auda-
cious and gigantic lie! They knew that in fact every step and
act of self-defense taken by the seceded States had been an
act of formal, legal statehood executed by constitutional au-
thorities, the same, to-wit, which bad first made those States
members of the Federal Union. But they would impudently
discard this great fact and call those actions illegal riots, the
doings of insurrectionary individuals assembled against the
law. They would rely upon the hot arrogance of triumphant
fanaticism and the revival of passions which they themselves
had "set on fire of hell," to overlook this essential difference.
Thus they would seemingly bring this terrible usurpatian of
their President under the scope of his authority to enforce
laws and suppress illegal violence. So he was made to begin
his famous war proclamation of April, 1861, which made the
most dreadful strife of modem times, with a stupendous false-

104 THE TRUE PUSP08E Off THE OIVIL WAR.

hood. On that foul foundation rest all the subsequent crimes
of coercion and reconstruction.

That this war was made, not to preserve a constitutional
Union, but solely to promote the aims of a faction, is confirmed
by these further facts. Its purpDse was clearly betrayed by
the final reply of Mr. Lincoln to Colonel Baldwin's noble ap-
peal for conciliation: "What, then, will become of my tariff?"
He might as well have said out aloud, that he was making this
war, not to preserve a Union, but to enforce his projected high
tariff. Next, every thoughtful man, North and South, friend or
foe of the Union, knew perfectly well that the Montgomery
Confederacy of seven States must be short lived if it remained
alone withDut the border States. If I may borrow a new term
of finance, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to
"freeze out" this weak association. By giving them a useless in-
dependence, making them feel the inconveniences of separ^ation,
and holding peaceably and steadily before them the benefits
and protection of the old, just CDnstitutional Union. So Mr.
Seward knew; and on this belief his policy was founded. So
the Virginian statesman and ardent lover of the Union, Alex-
ander H. Stewart, assured Mr. Lincoln. So Colonel Baldwin;
so ex-Governor MDrehead, of Kentucky. My point is then, that
the seven seceded States could have been brought back with
certainty Tiy pacific means. For the Union, no war was needed.
It was made solely in the interest of the Jacobin party.

Secessionists and Union men alike knew that the Mont-
gomery Confederacy could not stand, without the accession of
the great border States. But the latter were still firm friends
of the Union. They judged, like the secessionists, that the
abolition and free-soil movement was sectional, mischievous,
insulting, and perilous; 'but they had calmly resolved not to
make it a casus belli, wicked as it was. They had distinctly re-
fused to go out of the Union on that issue. They pledged them-
gelves to support Mr. Lincoln loyally and legally, though not
the President of their choice, and to conciliate the seceded
States provided the crime of coercion was foreborne. But they
assured Mr. Lincoln that this usurpatiDn and crime would in-
fallibly drive them, though reluctant, into the secession camp.
This made it perfectly plain that peace meant a restored Union,
while war meant disunion. But the Jacobins needed a war tor

TUB TRUK PtJBPOSE OF THE OIVIL WAH. 105

their own factious ends. There was nothing they disliked so
much as a Union peaceably restored. Therefore they preferred
the tactics which would insure war, and that on the most gigan-
tic scale, rather than peace and union. Their pnoblem was how
to make sure of the spilling of blood. Thus while those pa-
triotic and uniDn-loving statesmen, Messrs. Stewart and Bald-
win, were pleading with Mr. Lincoln nDt to coerce, because eo-
ercion would precipitate certain disunion and a dreadful war,
they were producing upon the cunning and malignant minds of
the Jacobin leaders a conclusion exactly opposite to the one
they desired. Those minds said to themselves: "Just so;
therefore we will coerce, because it is war which we crave, and
not a righteous Union,"

The history of the peace-congress confirms this explana-
tion. It will stand in all history to the everlasting glory of Vir-
ginia, that she proposed this assemblage, as a special agency
for harmonizing differences and restoring a true Union. She
sent to it her wisest patriots, irrespective of party, headed by
the great ex-President, John Tyler, illustrious for his exper-
ience, purity, courtesy and fairness. But the Jacobin leaders
had resolved that there should be no peace; and this without
waiting to see what terms of CDnciliation might be fDund. It
is a historical fact, that definite instructions went forth from
their head in advance, that the efforts of the Peace Congress
must be made abortive. The motive was not concealed: that the
partisan interests of the Jacobins were adverse tD such a peace.
Other leaders as Senators Chandler, of Michigan, and Wade, of
Ohio, etc., declared with brutal frankness, that the case requir-
ed blood-letting, instead of peace. Therefore, this last effort of
patriotism and love for the Union was an entire failui'e.

The withdrawal of the seven States tvom Congress left the
Jacobins a full working majority during the months of Jan-
uary and February. They had everything their own way in
Congress. But every effort for peace and union made by the
patriotic minority, represented by Senator Crittenden, of Ken-
tucky, was systematically repelled. Even when the compro-
mises proposed were transparently worthless to the South, they
were refused. The final word of Jacobinism was: "No com-
promise at all, fair or unfair, but absolute submission, or war
and disunion." The utmost pains were taken to teach the bor-

106 THK TRUE PUEPOSK OF THK CIVIL WAK.

der States and the friends ot the Union that they should have no
terms save abject submission to such constructions as the Jaco-
bin party might see fit to put upon a rent and outraged Con-
stitution. The proof is complete.

Argument is scarcely needed to demonstrate that the in-
famous reconstruction measures were taken, not in the inter-
ests of a true Union, but of this Jacobin faction. For their
architects brutally disdained to conceal their object. For in-
stance, one of their leaders, Alban Tourgee, in his "Fools Er-
rand," expressly declares that the purpose of reconstruction
was to elect another Jacobin President, otherwise jeopardized
by the reunited Democracy, through the help of the negro suff-
rage. And he declares that the project was short-sighted, and
destined to ultimate failure. Mr. Tourgee has here slandered
his brethren. Their reconstruction measures, in their sense of
them, were an entire success, — and did just what they designed,
— helped them to elect a series of Jacobin Presidents and to fix
their parties and policy upon the country. True; those measures
placed the noblest white race on earth beneath the heels of a
foul minority constructed '(>f a horde of black, semi-barbarous
ex-slaves and a gang of white plunderers and renegades. It
infected the State governments of the South with corruption
and peculation. It injected into suffrage, in the Southern
States, a spreading poison, which gives a new impulse to the
corruptions of the ballot, already current among themselves,
so that the disease is now remediless. But what did the Jaco-
bins eare for that? They had gained their end, more Jacobin
Presidents, more class legislation, a sure reign for the plutoc-
racy.

According to Mr. Lincoln's theory, a State could not go out
of the Union, and any act of secession is ifiso facto, void and
null, being but the deed of an illegal riot, and not of a legal
body. Hence all the States were legally in the Union through-
out and after the war. Hence, when armed resistance ended,
nothing was necessary to reinstate the so-called seceding com-
monwealths in tlieir full Federal status, except their submis-
sion to the chastisements and the changes laid down for them
by the will of their conquerors. The subjugated States had all
made that submission humbly and absolutely. Nothing should
have been wanting, therefore, to reinstate them, except the

TUB TEUB PUKPOSK OF THK CIVIL WAK. 107

witness of the Chief Executive of these facts. That witness
had been borne expressly and fully by General Grant Mmself
and the President.

Mr. Lincoln's man Friday, Andrew Johnson, now President
by the accident of murder, continued to stand precisely upon
his master's avowed platform. Why not? The whole coercion
party professed to stand on it! The war had been fought
through upon that ipretended platform. Why should not An-
drew Johnson simply reinstate these chastened sisters in the
Union, by his executive action especially, seeing they had never
been out of it, could not be out of it, and had fully accepted
their chastisement? But. that simple course meant the follow-
ing result: The war Democrats of the North, rallying the
Southern people to themselves, would elect a Democratic Presi-
dent! There is the whole rationale and cause of the infamy and
treason of reconstruction. And this explanation stamps the
whole war, with all its butcheries and nuseries as a gigantic lie;
and this result has given a perfect justification to every measure
of resistance taken by th^ States assailed. Such was the final
judgment of that Union-lover and reluctant Confederate, that
great Christian soldier, Robert E. Lee, as he went down with
stately yet tragic steps, to|vards the tomb and the judgment bar
of the omniscient and hojy God, in whom he believed.
Victoria, Texas, Dec, 1896.

THE DUTY OF THE HOUR/

Youug {rentlemeu of the Eumenean and Philanthropic So-
cieties: I aili here to-day in response not only to your call, but
to an imperative sentiment. This is the sense of the value of
the young men of the South, and their claims upon every pa-
triot. When I remember how your class has lately striven and
died for us — how this seat of learning, like every other shrine of
the Muses, was emptied at the call of a bleeding country, I feel
that you have earned a claim upon our sympathies and aid,
which cannot be refused. Nor was this devotion of our youth
the less admirable — in my eyes it is only the more touchjing —
because it has pleased the divine disposer, in his mysterious
and awful providence, to deny you that success which you
hoped. It has pleased Heaven that you should be so disappoint-
ed of your deserved victory, as that fools should say you have
bled in vain.

But be assured, that as the afflicted child is ever dearest to
the mother's heart, your disasters only cause your country to
press you closer to her bosom. Amid her cruel losses, her chil-
dren alone remain her last, as her moat precious possession;
and it is only from their energies, their virtues, their fortitude
nnder obloquy and oppression, that she hopes for restoration.
We assuredly believe, young gentlemen, that no drop of blood,
generously shed in the right, ever wets our mother earth in vain.

The vision of the harvest from this precious seed may tar-
ry, but in the end it will not fail; and we wait for it. The holy
struggle may meet with seeming overthrow. But if our im-
mediate hope is denied, amidst the manifold alternatives 0* Al-
mighty Providence, some other recompense is provided, which
will gladden and satisfy the hearts of our children, if not ours,
in Grod's own time and place.

Now that this expectation may not fail, it is needful that
you cherish jealously, the virtues and principles which ennoble

1. C'ommeDceraeDt OratiOD before the students olDavidsoD College, June, 1868,

108

l-HE DUTY OP THK HOtJR. 109

your cause. Your steadfast and undebauched hearts must be
the nurturing soil to preserve the precious seed of martyr blood,
during this winter of disaster, to the appointed summer of its
resurrection. The urgency, the solemnity of this season of
darkness and danger, warn me that it is no mere literary pas-
time, but a high and serious duty which should occupy this
hour. Pardon me, then, for passing to a topic which is funda-
mental, at once to the dearest hopes, of your country, and of its
dead heroes. I would employ this season of communion with
my young fellow-citizens, in uttering my earnest warning to
them, of a danger and a duty arising out o* the misfortunes of
our country^-a danger most portentous to a thoughtful mind,
a duty peculiarly incumbent on educated men.

TAis danger may be expressed by the fearful force of con-
quest and despotism to degrade the spirit of the victims. The
correlated duty is that of anxiously preserving our integrity
and self -respect. A graphic English traveller in the Bast, de-
scribes the contrast, so striking to us, between the cowering
spirit of the Orientals, and the manly independence of the citi-
zens of free States in Western Europe. These have been raised
in commonwealths which avouch. and protect the rights. of in-
dividuals. They are accustomed to claim their chartered lib-
erties as an inviolable heritage. The injuries of power are met
by them, with moral indignation and the high purpose of re-
sistance.

But the abject Syrian or Copt is affected no otherwise by
Turkish oppressions than by the incursions of nature's Resist-
less forces: the whirlwind or the thunderbolt.

The only emotion excited is that of passive terror. He ac-
cepts the foulest wrong as his destiny, and almost his 'right. He
has no other thought than to crouch, and disarm the lash by
his submissiveness. And if any sentiment than that of helpless
panic, is excited, it is rather admiration of superior power than
righteous resentment against wrong. He who is the most ruth-
less among his masters is in his abject view the greatest.

When we remember the ancestry o>f these Orientals, we ask
with wonder what has wrought this change? These are the
children of those Egyptians who under Sesostris, pushed their
conquests from Thrace to furthest Ind, beyond the utmost
march of Alexander and who, under the Pharoahs, so long con-

110 THE DUTY OF THE HOUB.

tested the empire of the world with the Assyrian. Or they are
the descendants of the conquering Saracens, who in later ages
made all Europe tremble. Or these Jews who now kiss the
sword that slays them are the posterity of the heroes who, un-
der the Macabees, wrested their country from Antlochus,
against odds even more fearful than iSouthern soldiers were
wont to breast. Whence, then, the change?

The answer is, this mournful degeneracy is the result of
ages of despDtism. These base children of noble sires are but
living examples of the rule, that not only the agents, but the
victims of unrighteous oppression, are usually degraded by
their unavenged wrongs : a law which our times renders so sig-
nificant to us.

Illustrations of the same rule also may be found in the
more familiar scenes of domestic life. Few observing men can
live to middle life without witnessing sad instances of ijb. We
recall, for instance, some nuptial scene, from the distance of a
score of years. We remember how the bridegroom led his
adored prize to the altar, elate with proud affection. We recall
the modest, trembling happiness of the bride, as she confi-
dently pledged away her heart, her all, to the chosen man whom
she trusted with an almost religious faith. Her step, diffident
yet proud, the proprieties of her tasteful dress, her spotless
purity of person, her sparkling eyes, all bespoke self-respect,
aspiration, high hope, and noble love. They revealed the
thoughts of generous devotion with which her gentle breast
was filled.

Had one whispered at that hour, that the trusted man
would one day make a brutal use of the power she now so con-
fidently gave, she would have resented it as the foulest libel on
humanity. Had the prophet added, that she was destined to
submit, tamely and basely, to such brutality, she would have
repudiated this prediction also with scorn as an equal libel on
herself. But we pass over a score of years. We find the same
womar sitting in an untidy cabin, with a brood of squalid, neg-
lected children around her knees; her shoulders scantily cov-
ered with tawdry calico, her once shining hair now wound like
a wisrp of hay into a f9ul knot. She is without aspiration, with-
out hope, without self-respect, almost without shame. What is
the explanation? She has been for years a drunkard's wife.

TIIK DVUS OF THE HOUR. HI

She was wholly innocent of her husband's fall. Long has she
endured unprovoked tyranny and abuse. Not seldomi has she
been the helpless victim of blows from the hand which was
sworn to cherish her. Often has she meditated escape from
her degrading yoke; but the unanswerable plea of her helpless
children arrested her always. She has found herself tied to a
bondage where there was neither escape or resistance; and
these wrongs, this misery, has at last crushed her down into
the degraded woman we see. The truthfulness of this picture
will only be denied by those who judge from ro^mance without
experience, not from facts.

We need only to look a little at the operations of moral
causes on man's nature to find the solution of these cases. We
are creatures of imitation and habit. Familiarity with any ob-
ject accustoms us to its lineaments. The effect of this ac-
quaintanceship to reconcile us to vice, has been expressed by
Pope in words too trite to need citation. And the fact that one
is the injured object of repeated crimes does not exempt him
from this law, but, as will be shown, only subjects him the
more surely to it. Not only is every act of oppression a crime,
but the seasons of despotism are usually eras of profuse and
outbreaking crime. The baleful shadow of the tyrant's throne
is the favorite haunt of every unclean bird and beast. And if
the oppressing power be the many-headed monster, a tyrant
faction, this is only more emphatically true. At such a time the
moral atmosphere is foul with evil example. The vision of
conscience is darkened and warped. The very air is unhealthy
even for the innocent soul.

For the common mind the standard of rectitude is almost
overthrown in the guilty csnfusion. But this is the Considera-
tion of least weight. A more momentous one is found in the
law of man's sensibilities. The natural reflex of injury or as-
sault upon us is resentment. This instinctive emotion has evi-
dently been designed by our Creator, as the protector of man
in this world of injustice. Its function is to energize his powers
for self defense. But its nature is active; in exertion is its life.
Closely connected with this is the sentiment of moral disappro-
bation for the wrong character of the act.

This emotion is the necessary correlative to approbation
for the right: so that the former cannot be blunted without

112 THE DDTY OF THE nOUR.

equally blunting the latter. The man, who has ceased to feel
moral indignation for wrong has ceased to feel the claims of
virtue. Nor is there a valid reason for your insensibility to
«:vil, in the fact that you yourself are the object of it.

Now when a man is made, the helpless victim of frequent
wrongs when his misfortunes allow him nothing but passive
endurance, resentment and moral indignation give place to sim-
ple fear. And this by two sure causes; not only is the very
power of sensibility worn away by these repeated and violent
abrasions; not only is the nature dulled by the penpetual vio-
lences to which it is subjected, but that activity being denied,
which is the necessary scope of these sentiments of resistance,
they are extinguished in their birth. The soul which first rose
against injustice with the quick and keen sense of wrong, and
heroic self-defense; at last brutalized by its very injuries, sub-
sides into dull indifference or abject panic. Should it nojb make
the thoughtful patriot shudder to compare the present temper
of the people with that of the revolutionary sires, who be-
queathed to us the liberties we have forfeited? With how
quick and sensitive a jealousy, with what generous disdain did
they spurn at the imposition of a tax of a few pence, against
their rights as Englishmen ; while *e seek to reconcile ourselves
with a jest or sophism to wrongs a thousand fold as onerous.
In the words of Burke, "In other countries the people judge of
an ill principle in government only by an actual grievance;
here they anticipated the evil, and judged of the pressure of
the ^evance by the badness of the principle. They augured
misgovemment at a distance, and snuffed the reproach of
tyranny in every tainted breeze." But we, their miserable chil-
dren, are compelled to inhabit the very miasm and stench of
extreme oppression, until our tainted nostrils almost refuse
the office, and leave us unconscious, while stifled by the pol-
lution.

We need not go so far to find this startling contrast; we
have only to compare our present selves with ourselves a few
years ago to find fearful illustrations of the working of these
influences. Let us suppose that on the evening of July 21, 1861,
I had stood before that panting citizen soldiery, which had just
hurled back the onset of our gigantic foe, and that I had de-
nounced to them that seven short years would find them tamely

teE UUTT OV THK HOUR. 113

acquiescing in the unutterable wrongs since heaped upon us:
in the insolent violation of every belligerent right, in the sack
of their homes, in the insult of their females, in the treacherous
arming of their own slaves, in their subjection to them; with
what anger and incredulity would they not have repelled me?
Let us suppose that I had made the imputation that some day
they would consent to survive such infamy: that it would be
possible for them to make any other election than that of
death, with their faces to the foe, rather than such a fate;
would they not have declared it a libel uipon the glories of that
day, and upon the dead heroes, even then lying with their faces
to the sky? But we have consented to live under all this, and
are even now persuading ourselves to submit to yet more! Do
you remember that unutterable swelling of indignation aroused
in us by the first rumor of outrage to Southern women? How
that y^u felt your breasts must rend with anguish unless it
were solaced by some deeds of defense and righteous retribu-
tion? But we have since had so illstarred a tuition by a multi-
tude of more monstrDus wrongs^ that the slavish pulse is now
scarcely quickened by the story of the foulest iniquities heaped
upon a defenseless people. Thus does our own melancholy ex-
perience verify the reasonings given.

But, my hearers, this deterioration of the moral sensibili-
ties does not place man above the promptings of selfishness: it
rather subjects him more fully to them. We may not expect
that the sense of helplessness and fear will reconcile him to
suffer with passive fortitude, without a struggle. As well nrtght
we look to see the panting stag bear the bit and spur with
quietude. The instinct of self-preservation goads the oppressed
to attempt some evasion from their miseries; but their 6nly re-
maining means is that common weapon of the weak against the
strong — artifice. Every down-trodden people is impelled al-
most irresistibly to seek escape from the injustice which can no
longer be resisted by force, through the agency of concealments,
of duplicity, of lies, of perjuries. The government of the op-
pressor is therefore a school to train its victims in all the arts
of chicanery and meanness. Mark, I pray you, the cruel al-
ternative to which it shuts them up. They must suffer with-
out human help or remedy, evils unrighteous, relentless, almost
intolerable; evils which outrage at once their well-being and

Il4 THB DtTTT OJF THE HOUR.

their moral sense; or they must yield to temptation and seek
deceitful methods' of escape. And the only motives to move
them to elect suffering rather than dishonor are the power of
conscience, the fear of God, and faith in the eventual awards of
His justice. What portion of. any people may 'be expected to
persevere in this passive heroism without other support?

In answering this question we must not forget the inex-
pressible seductiveness and plausibility of that temptation. It
pleads with the injured victim of wrong, that his oppressors
had no moral right to inflict these evils: That their injustice
and treachery forfeit all claim upon his conscience : That to de-
ceive them is but paying them as they deserve in their own
coin. An embittered hatred, which pleads its excuse from a
thousand unprovoked injuries, impels the sufferer by a sting as
keen as living fire, to seek the revenge of deception : the only
one in his reach. And last, the specious maxim, "That' neces-
sity knows no law," completes the triumph of the temptation
with the plea, that the endurance of this tyrant's unmitigated
will is impossible, and therefore the case justifies the means of
evasion.

Now I need hardly pause, before this assembly, to say that
all this pretended argument is a guilty sophism. You know that,
however plausible it may be, it is grounded in a profane forget-
fulness of God, of his holy will, and of his omnipotent govern-
ment over oppressors and oppressed. You see how it involves
that maxim of delusion, of whose advocates the Apostle de-
clared "their damnation isi jiist"; that the end sanctifies the
means. At the day when God shall bring him into judgment,
no man will dare to obtrude these specious pleas, for his viola-
tion of the eternal principles of truth and right — ^principles ou
wMch repose the welfare of all creatures and the honor of God,
principles whose sanctity only finds illustrations in the very
evils which man experiences ifrom their breach. But none the
less do we find anticipations of seduction verified by ten thou-
sand lamentable lapses from honor among our suitering people :
in their tampering with ensnaring and oppressive oaths; in the
evasion of pecuniary obligations; in the deceitful avowal of
pretenses abhorrent at once to the political pride and principles
of our country. The facts are too melancholy to be pursued.
Meantime the eflficiency of all these seductions is made

THE DTTTT OF THE HOUR. 1 15

more fearful by the causes which hedge lour young men up from
wholesome activities. There is no longer a career for their in-
dividual energies. Scarcely any profession offers a prize
worthy of their exertions. If they turn to agriculture, or the
pursuits of the merchant or artisan, the ruin of trade and the
crushing burden of unequal taxation compel them to labor for
a pittance. Hence the danger that they will succumb to an
apathetic despair. We see too many of our youth whose forti-
tude should sustain a fainting, sinking country, sitting down in
skeptical doubt to question the control of Divine Providence, or
sinking into an indolence which they persuade themselves is
inevitable, and seeking a degrading solace in epicurean ease.
Take heed, gentlemen, lest these insidious discouragements
transmute the sons of the heroes of Manassas and Shiloh, as the
despotism of arbitrary rulers has charge, into the modem Bom-
an. In the Eternal city we see the descendants of that race which
gave laws and civilization to a conquered world, now in the
words of their own sensual poet, "Porci dt gregt Epicuti, cute
ttnt curata," filling their idleness with the criticism of cooks
and singing women. , Rather than risk the yielding to this, arise
and go forth, sturdy exiles, to carve out a new career on some
more propitious soil.

It has been made my duty by my appointed pursuits to ex-
amine the history of previous conquests; and it is my deliberate
conviction that no civilized people have ever been subjected to
an ordeal of oppression so charged as ours with all the elements
of degradation. I have explained how the unrighteousiness of
the despotism becomes a potent influence for temptation. We
experience a domination, the iniquity of which is declared by
every patriot of every previous party, and constantly avowed by
the very men that impose it up to the day, when their reason
was swept away by the torrent of revenge and the lust of dom-
ination. Our people have been violently thrust down from the
proudest ancestral traditions, and highest freedom boasted by
any commonwealth on earth, to the deepest humiliations and
most grinding exactions. They have been overpowered, notby
manly force, but by filthy lucre, which bribed the prolitaries of
the whole world to crush us. We sbooped our banners, not like
the conquered Gaul and Briton to one who knew how, debellare
uptrbos, forcerc victis; but to a rabble who are not ashamed to

116 THE DtTTT OF THE HOtTR.

confess that their fourfold numbers and tenfold resources were
unable to subdue us, until they had armed against us all the
mercenaries of Europe and our own poor slaves besides. And
to crown all, the favorite project is to subject us, not to the con-
queror only, but to these alien serfs, to be invested with our
plundered franchises. Thus are our people robbed not only of
their possessions and rights, but of their dearest point of honor.
Now, every one experienced of human nature knows that when
you break down the chosen point of honor, the man is degraded
to a brute unless he is sustained by the vital grace of God. Thus
it appears that the iniSuences and temptations by which con-
quest depraves its victims are now applied to our people in
their most malignant eflScacy. The lesson which we should
learn from this fact is that we should be watchful in an equal
degree to preserve our own rectitude and honor.

For, young gentlemen, as the true dishonor of def^t lies
only in this deterioration of spirit, so it is the direst wrong
which the injustice of the conqueror can inflict. A brave people
may, for a time, be overpowered by brute force, and be neither
dishonored nor destroyed. Its life is not in the outward organ-
ization of its institutions. It may be stripped of these and clothe
itself in some diverse garb, in which it may resume its growth.
But if the spirit of independence and honor be lost among the
people, this is the death of the common weal : a death on which
there waits no resurrection. Dread, then, this degradation of
spirit as worse than defeat, than subjugation, than poverty,
than hardship, than prison, than death.

The law on which I have commented has ever appeared to
me the most awful and obscure of all those which regulate the
divine providence over men and nations. That the ruthless
wrong-doer should be depraved in his own soul by his crimes,
that he should find a part of his just penalty in the disorders
and remorse infused in his own nature by his acts; this is a dis-
pensation as adorably righteous as it is terrible. But that not
only guilty agent, but guiltless victim should, by a law, almost
natural, find his moral being broken down; that a necessity
which his will had no agency in procuring should subject his
heart to an ordeal so usually disastrous: — this is indeed fearful.
"Clouds and darkness" here surround him. Yet "justice and
judgment are the habitation of his throne." One thing I clearly

THE DUTY OF THE HOUR. 117

infer hence, that he has ordained the virtuous man's life in
this wiclied world, to be loften a battle, in which he may be
called "to resist unto blood, striving against sin." We learn
from these mournful histories how it may be our duty to sur-
render life, rather than conscience and moral independence.
Man's first duty to himself is the preservation of his own vir-
tue. His prime duty to his God may be said to be the same.
For how shall the depraved creature fulfill that "chief end,"
glorifying God? With no little seeming then was it argued of
old, that a dishonored life was no life indeed; so that the im-
position of unavoidable degradation of soul was equivalent to
the Marker's decree dismissing us out of the scene of defiled ex-
istence. Here is the most plausible excuse of that antique self-
sacrifice, by which the heroic souls of the Pagan world claimed
the privilege of escaping subjugation, and defying the oppres-
sor by a voluntary grave. For they knew not the only power by
which the inward stain of oppression can be countervailed.
They had never heard of gospel grace; of regeneration and
adoption; of a hope anchored beyond the grave; of a reward in
glory ennobling all suffering and endurance for conscience sake.
Let us not, however, palliate the error of those who thus re
Hred from life's battle without the word of supreme command
of the Captain. But from this danger of the soul's subjugation
along with that of the body, we may infer the duty and privi-
lege of preferring the surrender of life to the desertion of duty.
It is yours, young gentlemen, to boast among the alumni of
your college, more than one illustrious instance of this ia,te,
which may prove so enviable compared with ours. First among
these, I am reminded of one, whose youthful face, then ruddy
as that of the hero of Bethlehem, is filed ia the memories of my
first visit here. General Ramseur. Nowhere, in the rich record
of Southern chivalry, can there be found the name of one who
more deliberately resolved for death rather than forfeiture of
duty and honor. Twice within a few weeks, at Winchester and
Fisher's Hill, his command had yielded to numbers, in spite of
his most strenuous and daring exertion. On the morning of
the battle of Belle Plain, which began so gloriously for the Con-
federates, while marshalling his troops for the strife, he ex-
horted them to stand to their colors, and calmly declared that if
they had any value f9r his life they would henceforward be

118 THB DUTY or THE HOtJE.

staunch; for he was resolved never to participate with them in
another flight from their foes. " It was with this deliberate pur-
pose he joined battle. But as the bravest are ever the most
gentle, this stern resolve did not exclude the thought of the do-
mestic tie, which his country's call had sundered almost as soon
as it was bound around his heart, and of the infant which had
never received its father's kiss. His courage was only rein-
forced by these remembrances. For, as he began the onset, in
the second movement of the tragedy, he exclaimed to the oflB-
cers near him, "Now, gentlemen, let us so fight to-day as to
finish this campaign; I want to see my first born." After per-
forming his whole duty during the changeful day, he saw all
the line upon his left giving way. With his own command he
strove to stem the torrent of enemies; and when they, too, broke
in panic he refused to flee with them, but busied himself in
rallying a few determined spirits like himself. Whoh the last
fugitive left the field they saw him with a handful, breasting
the whole pursuing host, until, according to his pledge, he fell
with Ms face to the foe. Let this example inspire you to endure
as he fought, and you will be secure against all the degradations
of defeat.

This degradation, then, does not necessarily accompany
our prostrate condition. Divine Providence often makes the
furnace of persecution the place of cleansing for individual
saints. Why may it not be so for a Christian people? Why
may not a race of men come forth from their trials, like the gold
seven times refined in the fire, with their pride chastened, and
yet their virtues purified? This can be from the only cause
which sanctifies the sufferings of the Christian, t;he inworkings
of the grace of God. i^othing is more true than that the natural
effect of mere pain is not to purify, but to harden the sinful
heart of man, exasperating at once its evils and its miseries.
The cleansing Word and Spirit of Grod alone interpret its suf-
ferings to it and convert them into healthful medicines of its
faults. So it is the power of true Christianity, and that alone,
which can minister to us as a people the wholesome uses of ad-
versity. The salvation of the life of the Southern society must
be found by taking the Word of God as our constant guide.
But it may be asked: To what course of action should this
spirit of unyielding integrity prompt us? The answer from

THE DTJTt OF THE HOUR. 119

those infallible oracles is easy. While you refrain from the
suggestion of revenge and dispair, and give place as of neces-
sity to inexorable force, resolve to- abate nothing, to eonced°
nothing of righteous conviction. Truckle to no falsehood and
conceal no true principle; but ever assert the right with such
means of endurance, self-sacrifice and passive fortitude as the
dispensation of Providence has left you. If wholesale wrongs
must be perpetrated, if wholesale rights must be trampled on,
let our assailants do the whole work and incur the whole guilt.
Resolve that no losses, nor threats, nor penalties, shall ever
make you yield one jot or tittle of the true or just in principle,
or submit to pers3nal dishonor. And let us remember, young
gentlemen, that while events, the success of ruthless power, the
overthrow of innocence may greatly modify the expedient, "^iey
have no concern whatever in determining the right. The death
of a beloved child may determine its mother to bury its decay-
ing body out of sight, even to hide in the wintry earth that
which before she cherished in her bosom; but its death will
never make the true mother repudiate its relation of paternity
to it, or deny its memory, or to acquiesce in any slander upon its
filial loveliness. You must decide, then, each one for himself,
what things must be conceded to the necessities of new events,
and what things must be disclaimed as contaminating to the un-
conquered soul. May I not safely advise, that, in making these
decisions you should always refer them to that standard of
judgment which we held bef3re our disasters, as the truer^and
worthier one; rather than to that standard to which we are
seduced by their humiliations? Judge then from the same prin-
ciples (however new their special applications) from which you
would have judged in happier years when your soiils were in-
spired by the glorious traditions of your free forefathers, and
saw the truth in the clear light of your conscious manhood; not
as men would have you judge, from hearts debauched by de-
feat, and clouded with shame and despair.

We are a beaten, conquered people, gentlemen, and yet if
we are true t3 ourselves, we hav6 no cause for humiliation,
however much 'for deep sorrow. It is only the atheist who
adopts success as the criterion of right. It is not a new thing
in the history of men that God appoints to the brave and true
the stern task of contending and falling in a righteous quarrel.

120 THE DOTY OF THE HODE.

Would you find the grandest of all names upon the roll of time?
You must seek them among this "noble army of martyrs,''
whose faith in God and the right was stronger than death and
defeat. Let the besotted foDls say that our dead have fallen in
a' "lost cause." Let abandoned defamers and pulpit buffoons
say that theirs are "dishonored graves." I see them lie in their
glory with an illustrious company : with the magnanimous
Prince Jonathan, on Mount Gilb3a, and the good king Josiah
in the vale of Megiddo; with Demosthenes and Philopoemen;
with Hannibal, the pillar of Carthage; with Brutus and Cato;
with the British Queen, Boadicea; with the Teuton Herman;
with Harold, the Saxon, on Hastings field; with Wallace, with
Kosciusko; with one grander than all, our .own Jackson. We
have no need, sirs, to be ashamed of our dead; let us see to.it
that they be not ashamed of us. They have won the happier
fate, "taken away from the evil to come, they have entered into
peace; they rest in their beds, each one walking in their up-
rightness." To us they have bequeathed the sterner trial of as-
serting, by our unshaken fortitude under overthrow, the princi-
ples which they baptized with their blood. Let the same spirit
which nerved them to do, nerve us to endure for the right ; and
they will not disdain our companionship on the rolls of fame.
Before I end, let me invoke the aid of the gentler sex, whose
sympathizing presence I see gracing our solemnities. The high
mission of woman in society has been often and justly argued.
But never before was the welfare of a people so dependent on
their mothers, wives and sisters, as now and here. I freely de-
dare that under GrDd my chief hope for my prostrate country is
in their women. Early in the war, when the stream of our
noblest blood began to flow so liberally in battle, I said to an
honored citizen of my State, that it was so uniformly our best
men who were made the sacrifice there was reason to fear that
the staple and pith of the people of the South would be per-
manently depreciated. His reply was: "There is no danger of
this wliile the women of the South are what they are. Be as-
sured the mothers will not permit the offspring of such martyr-
sires to depreciate."

But since, this river of genersus blood, has swelled into a
flood. What is worse, the remnant of the survivors, few, sub-
jugated, disheartened, almost despairing and, alas, dishonored,

THE DUTT OF THE HOUB. 121

■because they have not disdained life, on such terms as are left
us ; are subjected to every influence from without, which can be
malignantly devised to sap the foundations of their manhood
and degrade them into fit materials for slaves. If our women
do not sustain them they will sink. Unless the spirits which
rule and cheer their homes can reanimate their self-respect, con-
firm their resolve, and sustain their personal honor, they will
at length become the base serfs their enemies desire. Outside
their homes, everything conspires to depress, to tempt, to seduce
them. Do they advert to their business affairs? They see be-
fore them only loss, embarrassment, and prospective destitu-
tion. To the politics of their country? They witness a scheme
of domination and mercenary subserviency where the sacrifice
of honor is the uniform condition of success. Only within their
homes is there, beneath the skies, one .ray of light or warmth
to prevent their freezing into despair.

TTiere, in your homes, is your domain. There you rule with
the sceptre of affection, and not our conquerors. We beseech
you, wield that gentle empire in behalf of the principles, the
patriotism, the religion, which we inherited from our mothers.
Teach our ruder sex that only by a deathless love to these can
woman's dear love be deserved or won. Him who is true to
these crown with your favor. Let the wretch who betrays them
be exiled forever from the paradise of your arms. Then shall
we be saved, saved from a degradation fouler than the grave.
Be it yours to nurse with more than a vestal's watchfulness, the
sacred flame of our virtue now so smothered. Your task is un-
obtrusive; it is (performed in the privacy of home, and by the
gentle touches of daily love. But it is the noblest work which
mortal can perform, for it furnishes the polished stones, with
which the temple of our liberties must be repaired. We have
seen men building a lofty pile of sculptured marble, where
columns with polished shafts pointed to the skies, and domes
reared their arches on high, like mimic heavens. They swung
the massive blocks into their places on. the walls with cranes
and cables, with shout and outcries, and hugh creaking of the
ponderous machinery. But these were not the true artisans;
they were but rude laborers. The true artists, whose priceless
cunning was to give immortal beauty to the pile, and teach the
dead stones to breathe majesty and grace were not there. None

122 THB DUTY OF THB HOUR.

saw or heard their labors. In distant and quiet workrooms,
where no eye watched them, and no shout gave signal of their
motions, they plied their patient chisels slowly with gentle
touches, evoking the forms of beauty which lay hid in the blocks
before them. Such is your work; the home and fireside are the
scenes of your industry. But the materials which you shape are
the souls of men, which are to compose the fabric of our church
and state. The politician, the professional man, is but the
cheap, rude, day laborer, who moves and lifts the finished block
to its place. You are the true artists, who endue it with fitness
and beauty; and therefore yours is the nobler task.

THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NA.TION'

Art. VI. — 1. Preliminary Report on the Eigth Census, I860.
By Jos. C. G. Kennedy, Superintendent. Washington:
G-overnment Printing Office. 1862.

2. Message from the President of the United States to the two
Houses />/ Congress, at the Commencement of the Second
Session of the Thirty-eighth Congress; with the Reports
of the Heads of Departments, and Selections from accom-
panying Documents. Washington: Government Printing
Office. 1864.

The ability of a people for military exploits depends, in
modem times, upon two classes of circumstances, the material
and the moral. Among the former, the most important are, the
numbers of its population, the magnitude of its revenues, its
manufactures, commerce, and agriculture, and its geographical
position. The moral qualities which make a military nation
are, natural bravery, love of glory, intelligence, independence,
fortitude, and, above all, virtue and devout religious faith.

The authors and politicians of the JJ'orth usually point,
with much exultation, to the war against the Confederate
States, which closed in 1865, as a splendid proof of their mili-
tary prowess. Since that triumph, it has iTeen customary with
them to claim that the United States stand in the first rank, if
not at the head of the great military powers of Christendom;
and that they may safely venture to coi)e with the greatest of
tho^e powers. That war is supposed to prove that the United
States are able, with ease, to place a million of combatants in
the field, and a powerful navy upon the water, for any contest
which affects the national heart. We propose to bring this
boast to the test, by a review of some facts and figures, touch-
ing the parties to the recent war. We hoi)e thus to reach a
correct estimate of the real material resources of the United
States for a great war, at this time, and of the aptitude which

1 Appeared In Southern Re7lew, Baltimore, Oct. 1889

183

134 THE UNITED STATUS AS A MELITAEY NATION.

the Northern people have disclosed for military enterprises.

The first consideration is obviously a comparison of thi-
population and production of the two parties to the late con-
test. According to the census of 1860 (the year before the con-
test began), as prepared by the North Itself, the Northern States
and territories had then a papulation of twenty-two million
eight hundred and seventy-seven thousand (22,877,000). This
aggregate includes a few hundreds of thousands of negroes, but
none of the Indian tribes. The Confederate States had a pop-
ulation of eight million seven hundred and thirty-three thou-
sand (8,733,000). But of these, three million six hundred and
sixty-four thousand (3,664,000) were negroes; so that if they
are deducted, we have only five million (5,000,000) whites to
sustain the struggle against twenty-two million, (22,000,000).
Northern politicians are bound to admit the fairness of at least
such a deduction; because they uniformly say that slavery is 8
weakening institution, Inimical to national strength. We, in-
deed always argued (what this war abundantly confirmed) that
a slave-holding nation was stronger for war than a hired-labor
State, of numbers equal to the free and slave together; because
the devotion of the bondmen to productive labor both released
a large number of freemen for military employments, and gave
them a higher tone. But the Northern statesman cannot use
this plea ; because he has always denied these facts, and assert-
ed the contrary. He is therefore obliged to count out the
Southern slaves, and to compare the belligerents as five mil-
lion (5,000,000) against twenty-two million (22,000,000). He is
obliged, also, to estimate these five million (5,000,000) as a peo-
ple far Inferior to the rest of Christendom, in their morale; for
has he not proved to his own satisfaction, in his descants on the
'barbarism of slavery,' that this institution invariably renders
the masters lazy, effeminate, selfish, petulant, and insubordin-
ate? The case which we have to inspect is, therefore, for the
North, this: that twenty two millions (22,000,000) of the best
people in Christendom^ managed somehow to beat five millions
(5,000,000) of the meanest.

In this estimate of numbers, we have not counted Kentucky
or Missouri as Confederate States. Both parties claimed them;
the North actually possessed them, during the whole war, with
their territories, resources, and population. A few thousand

THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. 125

fPDm each State preferred exile to subjugation, and enlisted in
the Confederate armies. These, with the recruits from Mary-
land, were far more than counterbalanced hy the large defec-
tions from the Confederate cause in East Tennessee, Northern
Arkansas, Western North Carolina, and Northwestern Vir-
ginia.

But we have not yet reached the fair comparison of mater-
ial strength. The campaigns of 1861 were only tenative; the
real "tug of war" had not yet come. But before May, 1862, the
Northern armies were in permanent occupancy of all Western
and Middle Tennessee, of nearly the whole of Louisiana, of
parts of Florida, of the coast of South and North Carolina, of
Eastern and Northern Virginia. This occupation continued
until the end of the war. The population thus excluded from
the support of the Confederate cause cannot he exactly esti-
mated; hut it was certainly more than twelve hundred thou-
sand (1,200,000). Thus the Confederates bore all the real
hpunt of the struggle, with three million eight hundred thou-
sand (3,800,000) white people. The fighting men were not ab-
SDlutely limited to this source, for some of them came from
within the hostile lines; hut, of course, no material resources,
and few men, could be relied on from a territory in the perma-
nent occupancy of the enemy. The real problem which was
solved, then, was, how twenty-two million (22,000,000) of the
hest people in Christendom managed, in three years, to beat
three million eight hundred thousand (3,800,000) of the mean-
est. '

But the material resources were even more unequal than
the numhers. The Confederate States were rather planting
than agricultural communities; their customary iadustry pro-
duced rather those things which are the basis of Northern com-
merce, than the wheat, the beef, the wool, the horses, which
sustain large armies. The North had far the larger pDrtion of
the commerce and manufacturing arts. It retained the nation-
al army, navy, arsenals, treasury, government. The South had
all these to create, in the progress of the struggle.

But, secondly, it is pleaded that a people inhabiting a large
country, have, in their forests, rivers, mountains, and especially
in the distances which armies must pass over, a defense against
the invader, which almost compensates for any inferi3rity of

126 THE UNIThD STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.

force. This argument was not true, in the case of the Confed-
erate people. New circumstances, with their geographical
position, wholly neutralized these advantages. Of these, one
was the advantage which the invader had of railroads ; by which
he almost annihilated distance, and overcame weight and bulk,
in transporting the materiel of war. The Confederate States
were sufficiently supplied with railroads for all the military
purposes of the invader. Retreating armies usually attempted,
of course, to dismantle these roads; but the repair of any dam-
age thus hastily done, was easy and quick work to a numerous
people, abounding in industrious mechanics, and in machinery
and materials. Thus, as an invading army was enabled by its
military successes to advance, the captured railroads in its rear,
quickly repaired, and easily defended, brought its base of ope-
rations practically up to its rear. It was, thus, relieved of this,
formerly, the great difficulty of extended invasion.

The decisive circumstance which robbed the Sotith of the
defensive' advantages of its wide territory was, the superiority
of its enemies upon the water. The North retained the use of
the whole national navy. While the South was chiefly a plant-
ing community, the North was manufacturing and maritime.
Hence the multiplication of ships and sailors, which continued
and increased her naval superiority^ was easy and rapid for her.
This cause also enabled her, by her blockade, to exclude the
Confederates from all foreign sources of supply. The naviga-
ble water was therefore, all, the territory of the North. The
ocean, and the gulf, which bounded two sides of the Con-
federate States, belonged to their invaders, furnishing them a
cheap and swift way of approach, secure from assault. This
fact rendered the whole sea and gulf shores bases of opera-
tions for Federal armies. It made all an exposed frontier, and
brought the enemy upon it all, as though he had embraced
these two sides, as he did the other two, with conterminous
territories of his own. The reader may represent to himself
the signiflcanee of this fact, by imagiHing the inland kingdom
of Bavaria assailed at once on four sides, by Austria, Switzer-
land, and the German States, all united under a single will.
The professional soldier will comprehend the disastrous position
of the invaded country, when he considers that the invader
thus had two pairs of bases of operations, at right angles to

THK tJUlTfiD STAtBS AS A MltlTAftV NATION. l^f

each other; tv hence it resulted that from whatever interior
base a Confederate army might set out to defend its frontier,
its line of operations must ne^ds be exposed, parallel to one of
these Federal bases, and liable to be struck at right angles, by
a force advancing from it.

But, worse than this, the Confederate territories were pene-
trated, in nearly every part, by navigable rivers, opening either
into the sea, which was the territory of the North, or into the
Northern frontier. On the east, the Potomac, the Rappahan-
nock, the York, the James, the Roanoke, the Neuse, the Cape
Fear, the Savannah, and on the south, the St. John's, the Ala-
bama, the Brazos, stretched their navigable waters far into the
interior; while the Mississdppi, which is itself an inland sea,
floating the greatest war-ships, passed out of the United States
below Cairo, through the midst of the Confederacy, to the Gulf,
which, again, belonged to its enemies. The Tennessee and the
Cumberland, with their mouths opening upon the Northern
frontier, in winter navigable for war-ships, as well as trans-
ports, curved inwards, near the heart of the Eastern quarter.
The Arkansas and Red rivers opened the States west of the Mis-
sissippi. The difficulties of invasion were also unexpectedly re-
moved, for the North, by the new decision given to the ques-
tion, whether shore-batteries could command a channel against
ships of war. Military authorities had usually answered this
question in the affirmative. The answer was now reversed in
favor of the North. When ships were only of wood, and pro-
pelled only by winds, a motive power gentle (except when it as-
sumes the unmanageable violence of the tempest), variable, and
uncertain, artillerists might well boast that shore-batteries
would usually destroy the ships opposed to them. ' But when
the ship has within itself an unfailing motive power, as steady
as the breeze and as swift as the tempest, and when it is coated
with an iron plating, which, if not absolutely impervious to
cannon-shot^, at least delays for a long time the ruin of the
framework, all is changed; it may expect to brave the bulljets
of shore-batteries with impunity, and to pass them without the
trocbl. of silencing them. Thus, the forts designed to protect
New Orleans, Memphis, and Vicksburg, were, in each case,
passed by the Federal steamers without being reduced; and
that which they were designed to defend was seized in spite of

128 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.

them; so that their retention hecame useless or imipracticable.

Now the naval supremacy of the North having heen assert-
ed upon all these streams, it was the least part of the evil, that
all their fertile valleys were exposed to ravage, and the wealthy
cities on their hanks, to capture. Each of the rivers hecame a
new and secure hase of operations for invading armies. Diffi-
culties of distance were almost annihilated. No interior hase
from which Confederate armies could operate toward their own
frontiers, to extrude the invader, remained secure from attack
from one or another of these rivers. Hence it was, that defen-
sive victories were usually fruitless of permanent results.

The justice of this view is sustained by the fact that all the
rivers were opened to the ingress of Northern armies and fleets
(save a small portiDn of the Mississippi between Vicksburg and
Port Hudson) without much difficulty, and before the real
"tug of war" hegan. By May, 1862, they were all, occupied;
and the illusory advantages of territory and distadce for the
invaded, were all .lost. The extent of the Confederate territory
UD longer interpDsed any difficulty to the invaders, except the
demand for a plenty of money and mechanics.

The M»>(/suhject of comparison is, ohviously, the size of the
armaments which the rivals were ahle to put into the field. To
appreciate the amazing disproportion, the reader must ponder
a few figures. According to the report of the Adjutant General
of the United States, two million five hundred and thirty thou-
sand (2,530,000) soldiers were employed hy land, during the
course of the war. The whole, population of the North suhject
to military duty, but not in service, had. also heen enrolled, and
the numher was found to he two million seven hundred and
eighty-four thousand (2,784,000)., These facts reveal the curious
result (of which use will he made hereafter), that, had no for-
eignens heen employed in their armies, the North would have
had, on land, nearly half (2,530,000 against 2,784,000) of their
whole male populatiDU of military age, actually under arms.
But the actual strength of their armies, at the close of the war,
is very accurately fixed hy the returns of volunteers mustered
out of service. These were one million thirty-four thousand
(1,034,000). So that, adding the regular army, we find that
they employed, at one time, one million seventy-two thousand
five hundred (1,072,500) combatants, on land, "to crush the

THB UNITED STATES AS A WIUTABT NATION. 129

rebellion." Thus, something more than one doughty warrior to
every four white Confederate souls (including all the soldiers,
old men, sick, women, children, babies, and cowards), and at
least one fighting man to every two Confederate souls adhering
in any sense to that government during the whole of the last
year of the war, were required to conquer their resistance!
This vast host "rtfas served by one horse or mule for every two
men in the field; and it destroyed draught animals at the aver-
age rate of five hundred (500) per day. It was ministered to
by one thousand and eighty (1,080) sea and river transports,
at a daily cost of one hundred and' twenty thousand dollars
($120,000) for their navigation alone. It was furnished during
the war with nearly eight thousand (8,000) cannons, and nearly
twelve millions (12,000,000) of small arms; while the masses of
cartridges, shot, shell, and gunpowder were fabulous.

To the efforts of this Xerxean host must be added those of
the navy of the United States. This arm employed, in the
course of the war, one hundred and twenty-six thousand five
hundred and fifty-three (126,553) sailors and marines; besides
the countless mechanics and servants about the naval arsenals
and depoU. Tie Report of the Secretary, under date of Decem-
ber 5, 1864, gives the following "General exhibit of the navy,
including vessels under construction," to- wit:
No. Ouns. Tons.

113 Screw steamers especially constructed for

naval purposes 1,426 169,231

53 Paddle-wheel steamers especially construct-
ed for naval purposes 524 51,878

71 Iron-clad vessels 275 80,596

149 Screw steamers, purchased, captured, etc.,

fitted for naval purposes 614 60,380

174 Paddle-wheel steamers, purchased, captur-
ed, etc., fitted for naval purposes 921 78,762

112 Sailing vessels of all classes. 850 69,549

671 Total 4,610 510,396

588 Total navy, December, 1863 4,443 467.967

83 Actual increase for the year 167 42,429

Now against these, place the following numbers of the Con-

130 THE UNITKD STATES AS A MILITARY NATioif.

federate armies. The aggregate of all the levies made during
the whole war, was about equal to the available force present
for duty at one time with their enemies; that is to say, about
six hundred and sixty thousand (660,000), or one-fourth the
whole number enlisted by the North during the war. If we
estimated the Confederate force effective for duty at any one
time by this ratio we should give them less than one hundred
and twenty-flv« thousand (125,000) soldiers in actual service,
the day their armies were strongest. When we remember that
many of their levies were from districts soon occupied perma-
nently by their enemies, to which therefore no provost-marshal
could ever go to reclaim absentees, we might reasonably con-
clude that the number of Confederates actually in the field at
any one time bore a still smaller ratio to the total of levies.
But the superiority of the Confederate administration, wibli
the higher patriotism of the people, wonderfully counterpoised
this disadvantage, and enabled the government to present, in
May, 1864, about two hundred and sixty-four thousand
(264,000) combatants to Mr. Lincoln's nine hundred and sev-
enty thousand (970,000), the number he had under arms at that
time. But it was impossible for the Confederacy to mobilisie,
for campaigning, as large a ratio as their enemy did. They had
the same length of frontier to guard ; they were therefore com-
pelled to reserve for garrisons and posts a far larger part rela-
tively to their whole force. Hence, while Greneral Grant, as
commander-in-chief, was able to put in the field, for aggressive
purpases, six hundred and twenty thousand (620,000) men in
May, 1864, Mr. Davis opposed him with about one hundred and
twenty-five thousand (125,000) in the several active armies.

The disproportion of forces, and the relative character of
the rival armies, may also be illustrated by the numbers actually
arrayed against each other in several battles. At the critical
turn of the first battle of Manassas, the ofBcial reports of Gren-
erals McDowell and Beauregard show that the decisive grapple
for the key of the battle-field was made by six thousand five
hundred (6,500) Confederates against twenty thousand (20,(100)
United States troops, including several regiments of regulars.
The Confederates won it. At Sharpsburg, thirty-three thousand
(33,000) Confederates repulsed ninety thousand (90,000) Federal-
ists. At Chancellorsville, thirty-five thousand (35,000) Confed-

THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY XATION. 131

erates beat Gen. Hooker, with the "finest army up9n the planet."
In the Wilderness, Gen. Lee met Hen. Grant's one hundred and
forty-two thousand (142,000) with fifty thousand (50,000) and
without any accessions to this number, continued to breast the
Federal army increased (save as the Confederate shot had thin-
ned it) by sixty thousand (60,000) more. In the battle of Win-
cheater, in the autumn of 1864, Sheridan only won a dearly
bought victory from Gen. Early, by hurling fifty thousand (50,-
000) upon his twelve thousand (12, ((00.) In the closiing struggle
Gen. Lee's thirty-three thousand (33,00(1) were not dislodged
frDm Petersburg and Richmond until their assailants were
again increased to one hundred and eighty thousand (180,000.)
And finally, the remnant of Lee's heroic army did not surrender
to this enormous host until it wa.s reduced to less than eight
thousand (8,000) muskets. The aggregate of men paroled at
Appomattox was made up of some twenty or more thousand
(20,000) stragglers, and men on detached service, who came in,
to avail themselves of the supposed pacification, after the ter-
mination of military operations.

To this disparity of forces upon land, and overwhelming su-
periority upon the water, must be added the advantages
derived by the North from their blockade. This crippled the
C'Dufederacy, both in its military and in its financial efforts.
The true basis for credit, upon which alone the "sinews of war"
could have been borrowed m Europe (where alone they existed
for the new government) was in the Southern cotton and
tobacco. Mr. Davis's administration should have had not only
the large and precious crop of 1860, but an equal crop in 1861,
and successive ones in 1862 and 1863, only diminished in bulk,
but enhanced in price, upon which to found, at once, a system
of foreign loans, and an all-persuading motive f 9r foreign recog-
nition. Only in 1864, did the stress of domestic wants become
so urgent as to arrest all other tillage, for the production of
provisions. Now the blockade never wholly arrested shipments
of cotton; but it gradually became stringent enough t9 impose
upon them a tax in the form of losses by capture, or of bribes
to Federal officials, sufficient to disappDint effectually these
great purposes. The financial right arm of the Confederacy
was tied up. Again, the blockade imposed such difficulties
upon importations that, although they continued almost to the

132 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITAET NAliON.

last, they were limited to a few of the mare oompact articles
which nurtured the war; and these were supplied in the most
scanty and inadequate degree. Thus, the weaker combatant
was kept, in a measure, unarmed and unfed, during the unequal
struggle.

Fourthly. To give a correct estimate of Northern prowess
in this war, the truth must be told — which is not pleasant to
the pride of the Ck)nfederates — that their armies, apart from
their deficient numbers, were never formidable in their char-
acter. The Confederate glory was dependent more on the
weakness of their assailants, than on the intrinsic vigor of their
defense. This assertion, true though distasteful, will be sub-
stantiated by these two facts : first, that the people of the
South were never roused to what professional soldiers call a
popular resistance; and secondly, that the government never
had a really organized and disciplined army. As tq'the first,
their enemies did indeed wage their war in a ruthless way,
which gave abundant motive and justification for popular war-
fare; that is, for turning every male of the invaded country
into a soldier without the formality of enlistment, and for
teaching him tD regard every invader as an outlaw, to be assail-
ed by any means, and in every place. But the Southern people
never availed themselves of that right. Amidst all the unutter-
able horrors of the raids, the burnings, the wanton and ruinous
ravagings, the home people of the South maintained a singular
neutrality, and submitted with an unaccountable quiescence,
leaving all defense and vengeance, alike, to the organized sol-
diery. Federal officials came and went along vast lines of
transportation; cavalrymen who had given the country people
every reason to regard and treat them as wolves, traversed the
regions they had desolated; bummers rode away with their
spoil, secure from ambuscade unless some movable column of
the regular Confederate armies, under some Morgan, Quantrel,
or Mosby, happened to be near. The citizens — plundered,
ravaged, murdered — rarely avenged fhemselves by becoming
guerillas.

This singular quietude of a spirited people was to be ac-
counted for by several causes. Perhaps the most operative of
these was the quixotry of the government; which, in its eager
desire for the reputation of a civilized and honorable belliger-

THE UNITED STATF8 AS A MILITARY NATION 133

ent, uniformly neglected and discouraged such citizens as pro-
posed to resort to those rights of nature which the outrages of
the invaders jusitifled. The people, moreover, were strangers
to war and bloodshed. Two generations of profound peace at
home, had made ease pleasant, and personal vengeance abhor-
rent to their habits. Their character was quiet, law-abiding,
kindly, in the highest degree. Their high civilization, and the
standard of material comfort and safety to which they were
accustomed, had disqualified them for seeking the rough and
turbulent vengeance of the guerilla And then, the men of
hardihood and spirit had responded at first to the call of their
country, and were in the regular armies. So it was, that the
Northern invader was almost wholly free from that species of
annoyance which, when combined with the resistance of organ-
ized .armies, becomes so terrible — popular warfare.

Next, when we asserted that the armies of the Confeder-
acy, inadequate in size as they were, never showed themselves
truly good armies in quality, we did not impugn the gallantry
of the bulk of the men composing them. Themorale 3[do3d b jo
is a thing of comparative estimate. It may be very true (as this
discussion will evince) that, compared with that of the North,
the morale of the Confederacy was lofty and brilliant. But it
must be confessed that, compared with the historic standard,
the Confederate people and soldiery were not, as a whole, a
heroic body. The war found them in a transition state. Very
many, perhaps the most of the reputable men (with nearly all
the women) still. cherished the hardy virtues and ennobling Spir-
it of Revolutionary grandeires. Yet the corrupting copartner-
ship with the North had continued just a generation too long.
The leaven of a sensualistic morality and civilization was at
work all through the South; the contagion had already tainted
multitudes. Hence, although in the moment of first enthusiasm
the i)€ople seemed to rally almost as one man to the call of
liberty raised by the undebauched spirits, yet when the stress of
danger and toil came, many proved themselves craven. The
Confederate armies certainly included a class of patriot soldiers
the noblest which this age can produce, under any clime. This
class was numerous; it embraced, perhaips at all stages of the
war, a majority of the levies. But there was also a large ele-
ment of baser metal; men who begrudged their sacrifloes for

134 THE UWITKD STATKS AS A MILITARY NATION.

liberty, and shirked danger. And as death thinned the ranks
of the original armies, this worse material became relatively
larger.

But the fact, that the Confederacy never had a really good
army, can be explained abundantly, without depreciating the
gallantry of the Confederate people. It never had the leisure,
nor the skilled officers, to organize a thorough army. The pop-
ulation, though gallant, was ignorant of war, by reason of two
generations of peace. The fewest men are born soldiers, like
the Jacksons, the Ashbys, the Sterling Prices, the Forrests.
For ordinary mortals, it is a hard and long lesson, to learn
that untiring self-denial, that devotion to duty, that study of
detail, that carefulness, that self-government, that talent of
command, that intelligence in the arts of attack and defense,
which must be added to personal courage, to make the good of-
ficer. Nothing can teach that lesson to them, except long ex-
perience in actual service. Now the Confederacy was compell-
ed to organize into armies a larger portion of its men than any
modern nation has been able to keep in the field. It was obliged
to employ thousands of officers, where it had only a few score -
the graduates of West Point, and veterans of the little army of
Mexico — competent. There was not in the country a tithe of
the practical knowledge of military duties which was necessary
to organize and instruct the armies raised. That so much was
done, to approximate such bodies of u'nwarlike men towards
the character of regular armies, shows an extraorditiary gal-
lantry and aptitude for war, in the Southern people. But the
armies never had enough competent officers to make them, as
wholes, well drilled or well organized forces. At the beginning
of the campaigns of 1862, they had mpre nearly attained this
character: thenceforward, while individuals acquired the exper-
ience and hardihood of veterans, the regiments gradually lost
their regularity of movements, and tactics were more and more
at a discount. Southern officers and soldiers uniformly testi-
fied that the drill of the Northern regiments (except when
confused by attack) was better than their own. But the
Northern army must have been but a sorry standard of com-
parison in this particular, since they had a part of the same
difficulties to overcome in extemporizing their forces. The
most experienced Southern officers confessed that it was the

THK UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. ,135

rarest spectacle to see their advancing r^ments preserve such
an alignment in their onset as to deliver anything like a col-
lective shock again the enemy. Usually, the onset was the
rush of an impetuous mob, in which the quick men were one
or two hundred yards in advance of the slow. It was the tes-
timony of the soldiers., that the front line, if supported by a
second line of battle in the rear, must always make its account,
when fired into by the enemy, to receive also at least a partial
fire from their own friends; because no Confederates were ever
sufficiently under the control of their officers, to hear Northern
huUets whistle, without returning them. In the best Confed-
erate regiments, during the excitement of battle, eager sugges-
tions from privates were as loud, and as influential, as com-
mands from their officers.

This lack of drill was the necessary result, not only of a de-
ficiency of officers, hut also of the cruelty of the emergency.
Troops must needs be hurried to the front hefore their train-
ing was completed; often, before it was begun. Cavalry horses
were taken from pasture or plough to-day, and employed iu
action to-morrow. Recruits were sent to the front the day
they were enrolled, and were merged at once in active forces,
whose exacting duties in the march, the picket, and the line of
battle, left them not one moment for drill, during a whole half
year. Troops ceased to go into winter quarters; for the cam-
paigns extended through winter and summer alike. The very
lack of instruction and drill necessitated a four-fold exposure
of the efficient officers; so that the army was at length almost
wholly deprived of its more capable and experienced leaders,
by death or ca-pture. And, to crown all, the government had
laid a foundation for defective discipline, by making the officers
elective. From all these causes it came to pass that the Con-
federate armies, while displaying great gallantry on the part
of a majority of their men, had scarcely enough discipline and
drill to entitle them to the name of regular armies. This de-
ficiency was confessed by the highest possible authority, that
of Gen. Lee himself. This consummate soldier, speaking of
the advantage of perfect drill and unity of action, and declar-
ing that he believed this advantage so great, as against either
of the forces then engaged, as to be almost incapable of exag-
geration, pointed to it as the natural remedy for his inferiority

136 THE UNITED STATES A6 A MILITAEY iTATlON.

of numbers. But then, pausing, he added, with accents of sdg-
niflcant sadness: "But I cannot give this drill to my ai-my,
because the enemy has my officers in his prisons."

The Federal authorities were exempt, in the task of form-
ing their armies, from the most of these difBculties. They had,
first, the whole standing army of the United States, as a nucleus
and model for their military crystallization. They had the ma-
jor part of the instructed officers. They were able to draw mer-
cenary officers from all the armies of Europe. They, as the
aggressors, could choose their own time for the initiative, and
needed not to move their new armies until they thought them
ready, while the defendants must, perforce, move to meet them,
prepared or unprepared. And especially, the invaders, having
their own populous country and all the world to furnish num-
bers, were able to keep their new levies in the depots, until
they were drilled. It was easy for them to have enough men
at the front, and enough also in the camps of instruction.

The work which the North had to do, therefore, was only
to beat forces of one-fourth their own number, or less; and these
untrained to war. They should have found the Confederate
armies almost as little formidable in their quality as in their
size.

Fifthly. The credit of the North for this exploit must also
be affected by this fact, that while they had at the outset twen-
ty-two millions (22,000,000) against five millions (5,000,000),
and during the real crisis of the war, twenty -two millions
(22,000,000) against three million eight hundred thousand
(3,800,000), they did not deem these odds sufficient, but eagerly
sought the aid of the rest of the world. They believed them-
selves, if we may infer from their actions, unable to crush this
feeble adversary, without drawing from the Southern slaves
armies as large as all those of the Confederacy, and from
Europe hundreds of thousands of her proletaries. The Fed-
eral Secretary of War tells us that he mustered out of service
about one hundred and seventy thousand (170,000) negro com-
batants. These were recruited almost exclusively from the
slaves of their enemies. When Gen. McClellan, during the
Presidential canvass of 1864, ashamed of so savage and dis-
graceful a dependence, promised that he, if made President,
would disband the negro troops, Lincoln himself ridiculed Ms

THE UNITED STATES AS A MIUTAUT NATION. l37

promise; saying that this would deprive the Union cause of
the aid of two hundred thousand (200,000) men, and would thus
render its success hopeless. That is to say, the head of the Fed-
eral Union judged that its twenty-two millions (22,000,000),
backed by all the mercenaries of Europe, would be unable to
conquer these three million eight hundred thousand (3,800,000)
Confederates, without the aid of two hundred thousand (200,-
000) partially reclaimed, black savages!

It would, perhaps, be hard to find documentary data, from
which to learn the exact number of foreign recruits in the
Northern armies. We can show that this element was very
large. All well-informed persons know that every country of
Western Europe was canvassed by "emigration-agents," who,
under tliis thin disguise, were recruiting officers for the North;
and that a large part of that human stream, which flows annu-
ally' into the United States, was, during the war, directed into
the Union armies. Not only were foreigners found In every
raiment; whole brigades, as that of Meagher, and even divi-
sions, as that of Blenker, were composed exclusively Of Irish
men or of Germans. In the prison depots of the Confederates,
half, at least, of the captives gave evidence of foreign birth.
The Secretary of War at Washington gives us the nationalities
of fifteen thousand seven hundred (15,700) men buried in the
military Golgotha of that capital. Of these, he tells us, four
thousand nine hundred (4,900) were native white soldiers, four
thousand one hundred and eighty (4,180) were negroes, and six
thousand six hundred (6,600) were foreign-born. Either' the
native-born must have been more chary of exposure to wounds
and disease, than the foreign-born; or else, in the armies whicn
sent their disabled men to Washington, there must have been
more foreigners than native whites in the ratio of "nearly seven
to five. Once more. The reports of the war and navy de-
partments of the Washington Government show an aggregate
of two million mx hundred and fifty-six thousand (2,656,000)
men, actually engaged, at different times, in the military and
naval service of the war. But the whole number of men
capable of military duty, in the "loyal" States, who had not
been drafted, was two million seven hundred and eighty-four
thousand (2,784,000.) Whence, if those States had done their
own fighting, it would follow that nearly half their men must

138 THE TTNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.

have been for a time in service. But the uniform testimony of
travelers and citizens was, that the walks of ci^-il life in the
North exhibited a very slight depletion of their customary
throngs. While, in the South, every assemblage, at church, at
the seats of justice, in the streets of towns which were not
military posts, gave striking evidence of the absence of nearly
all the arms-bearing men, at the North, a very small part of the
home population was absent in the camps. Now, the only
solution of this riddle is, that their levies were filled chiefly
with foreigners. Putting these data together, it seems very
plain that leas than half in the Northern armies were native
citizens. In other words, these twenty-twD million (22,000,000),
after recruiting their armies with two hundred thousand
(200,000) negroes, were not able to conquer the three million
eight hundred thousand (3,800,000), until they had associated
with them half a million of foreigners. The North found it
necessary to call all the world to its help, in order trf overpower
its feeble adversary!

But, sixthly, the whole story is not yet told. Even this
whole people, with the negroes and all the world to back them,
acknowledged themselves unable to subdue the resistance of
their little foe, by any ordinary methods of warfare recognized-
among civilized nations. They were compelled to add to these
the most ingeni3us combination of savage and illegitimate ex-
pedients, to undermine the adversary whom they could not
meet in fair and equal battle. One of these was the incarcer-
ation.of unarmed citizens, captured in the pursuits of civil
life, who might perchance either become Confederate soldiers
afterwards, or might aid some soldier or sDldier's family with
their industry. Another was the exclusion by blockade of
medicines for the sick; a barbarity unheard of before among
polite nations. The calculation was, that the stroke of eald
steel or disease, in the body of the gallant adversary, might
be aggravated unto death in the more instances; and that
the pestilence might ravage the home population, unchecked
by the skill of the physician. Another was the destruction
of food and the implements of industry, among the peaceful
citizens of the South. It was cunningly calculated, that by
these means, some brave enemies at the front might be recalled
home by the harrowing news of famine at their beloved hearth-

THE UNITED 8TATB9 A8 A MILITARY NATION. 139

stones, or that, at least, their arms might be paralyzed by the
anguish; and that some others might be starved out by lack of
rations. What did it matter that helpless women, little chil-
dren, old men who had shed their blood for the flag of the
United States, the poor negroes, innocent in every sense, of
the war, might perish of the dire but undeserved doom of
famine? No matter, if there was a chance thereby of weak-
ening some of those few brave arms, which they so much
dreaded in battle. History will never disclose the ruthless and
universal diligence of the North in this work of destruction.
It was for this it needed its million (1,000,000) of destroyers.
Its only hoipe was to make the dearth as wide as the hostile
country. Its politicians boasted with an amiable wit, that if
the prowess of neither Gen. McClellan, nor Bumside, nor
Hooker,, nor Grant, could prevail to "crush the rebellion," they
had enlisted one, more all-conquering than the whole of
them, general starvation. Scarcely a county in the interior
of the largest Southern State escaped this systematic ravage.
Wherever the Northern troops went, work-animals were stolen
or slaughtered, with all other live stock; all ploughs and other
implements of husbandry broken; mills and factories burned;
tanneries destroyed, with their hides; and the blessed bread,
sacred gift of divine Providence to man, either burned or
trampled under the horses' feet. The sweeping ravages of
Sheridan, in Virginia, under the express orders of the com-
mander-in-chief, and of Sherman in South Carolina and Georgia,
will never be forgotten while history has a verdict to irtter.
The flatterers of these men boasted that the desolation was to
be so utter that the crow flying across the wastes would be
compelled to carry his own rations! And if it was not so
c-omplete, the only reason was, that the industry of even North-
ern malice wearied of the work of destruction.

These methods, and not the Federal arms, were, in truth,
the weapons which wrought the ruin of the Confederacy. Its
little armies never were beaten ; they were, in fact, dispersed by
the difflculties of subsistence. They did not yield to the force of
arms, but to the efficacy of these savage and cowardly means.

One more artifice of barbarism remained, by which the
gigantic enemy could supplement his lack of prowess; the vio-
lation of the cartle for the exchange of prisoners. As soon as

140 THE UNITED STAGES AS A MILITAUY NATION.

the Washington Government came to understand the task it
had undertaken, and to perceive its advantage in wearing out
the adversary which it could not meet in a fair field, it began
to seek pretexts for evading its own engagements for this ex-
change. Ultimately, it came to act upon the policy of holding
every dreaded Confederate, whom it captured. It mattered
not to it, that a larger number of its own men were left to pine
or die in captivity. At last, when, early in 1865, the argu-
ments or the frank concessions of the Confederate Government
had removed the last pretext for delaying the general exchange,
"Butler the Beast" was selected by the Federal Generalissimo,
as a fitting tool, to write a letter so insolent, and so unworthy
of a soldier, that it was calculated all intercourse must, per-
force, be interrupted, and thus, the doors of the prisons be final-
ly closed upon the captured Confederates, until their aid would
be too late for their cause. "The Beast," disgraced a little
after by his master, expressly disclosed this design? And the
commander-in-chief, with equal candor, declared, that if the
fifty thousand (50,000) Confederate soldiers, whom he held,
were released, and added to the armies of their country, its
conquest would be impossible. He manifestly counted it for
uothing, that this exchange would restore to his ranks fifty
thousand (50,000) of his own braves! This, he felt, would bu
no equivalent; the conquest of that number of Confederates
would require an addition of three hundred thousand (300,000)
negroes, or mercenaries, or native Northerners.

H^re, then, is the exploit of the Northern people; that
twenty-two million (23,000,000), possessed of every material
advantage, aided by two hundred thousand (200,000) negroes
filched from the South, and by all the mercenary adventurers
of the world besides, were able to overpower three million eight
hundred thousand (3,800,000), after three years, and after they
had added to all the legitimate appliances of civilized war, all
the savage expedients of bad faith, ravage, sack, and disease.
In the sober light of these facts and figures, the claim of prowess
for the North, in this war, is infinitely preposterous. That it
did not crush its puny antagonist within the first six months,
is subject of burning reproach. That it admitted itself unable
to crush Mm at all single-handed, and was compelled to invoke

THE UNITED STATES AS A MIMTAUY NATION. 141

the aid of all Europe, of the poor negro, of savage artifice, and
barbarities long discarded by dualized man; this should make
it silent forever, as to the glories ot this war. It is, for it, the
most mortifying exhibition of national impotency, which mod-
ern history discloses, anywhere this side of China.

But still it is pleaded, that if the North failed to display
signal prowess in the field, it did nevertheless carry through
this great war with spirit and determinatiDn; and did actually
overoome, somehow, a great resistance. Even European ob-
servers, ignorant of facts, seem to admit that, if for nothing
else, the North is to be dreaded for its perseverance, its me-
chanical industry, and its financial resources. The plain state-
ment of a few truths will also remDve this conclusion. It will
be seen, that the cost at which the victory over the Confed-
erates was won is a financial burden, which effectually inca-
pacitates the United States from again fighting with money;
that the Northern people, in a moment of reckless phrensy,
purchased their revenge by crippling themselves; and that the
ruinous price paid for their triumph leaves their financial credit
in as ugly a condition as their military. They, more than any
other people, account money to be 'the sinews of war.' On
that calculation, the ability of the people for future wars is to
be measured by its ability to pay additional taxes, and to con-
tract further bans in the money-markets of the world, for mili-
tary enterprises. If the United States can get as much more
money (and can find among Southern negroes and foreign
emigrants another seven hundred thousand (700,000) of gud-
geons,' to be befooled), then, perhaps, they are competent to
the conquest of auDther spirited little nation of four or five
million souls. Such seems to be the measure of their promise
for military exploits in the future. There is something impres-
sive to the bystander, in the exhibition of tremendous effort.
If it be granted that the athlete can do again and again what
we have just seen him do, he is invested in our eyes with a very
portentous aspect; we feel that he would be a terrible fellow
to have upon our hands. But when we discover that the
present efforts (than which none less would have saved him
from being beaten by his little adversary) are so far beyond
nature, that they have ruptured a blood-vessel or an intestine,
and crippled him for life, we degrade him from a formidable

142 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.

antagonist to a broken down champion. Our panic is effectually
cured.

To appreciate, then, the financial resources of the United
States for further military enterprises, the experienced public
man will examine the following points: the existing burdens
of debt, which must still be provided for, whatever new one
may be incurred; the cost of the existing administration, to
the people; the ability and disposition of the people for tax-
paying; the economy and efficiency of the present administra-
tion; the present state of the national credit, with the probable
influence upon it of a great increase in the national indebted-
ness; the unity and patriotism of the popular feeling; and all
these, compared with similar elements of strength in the nations
which are to be the probable antagonists.

What then are the existing burdens of debt, which the
United States must carry through any future wars? .At the end
of 1868, the recognized debt of the Federal Grovemment was
three thousand and eighty-six and a half millions of dollars
(?3,086,438,635). Nearly the whole of this accrued in the
four years of the Confederate war. This total includes the
current treasury notes, called greenbacks (which are the Grov-
ernment's promises to pay), and the certificated debt not yet
bonded. The annual interest upon this debt, which must
be raised by taxation, is one hundred and forty and a half mil-
lions ($140,424,000); of which the larger part is paid in coin,
although the loans were received by the G-ovemment in depre-
ciated paper. To pay this debt, the United States have thirty-
four and a third millions of souls (in 1866, 34,288,870). Let
this debt be compared with that of the leading Powers of
Christendom, especially those of Western Europe. England
owes a national debt of three thousand six hundred and forty-
two millions of dollars ($3,642,000,000), and pays upon it an
annual interest of one hundred and twenty-six millions of dol-
lars ($126,000,000). To bear, these burdens, there are in the
British Isles about twenty-nine millions (29,000,000) of souls;
but they have, in the remainder of the British Empire, one
hundred and fifty-four millions (154,000,000), who are com-
mercially tributary to them, and thus supply the ability to pay
taxes sixfold above their numbers. It must be remembered,
also, that while the British debt is the gradual result of a

THE UtflTED STATES AS A MIHTaKT KaTIOK. 143

number of great wars and glorious enterprises, continued for
generations, which have added vast territories and untold
wealth to the Emipire, the debt of the United States was nearly
all incurred in four years, as the price of the desolation of the
fairer half of their home domain.

The Kmpire of Austria has thirty-five and a haJf millions
(35,500,000) of souls. Its national debt is about one thousand
four hundred and nineteen millions of dollars (fl,419,000,000).
Austria is usually regarded as the most burdened and paralyzed
of the great Powers of Europe. France, with its dependencies,
has a population of forty-four and a half millions (44,500,000).
Its national debt is two thousand two hundred and forty-seven
millions of dollars ($2,247,000,000). All these great Powers
feel that, in the burdens of their debts for former wars, they
have given caution to mankind for a pacific behavior in the
future.

But the real burdens of the people of the United States
have not yet been disclosed. The Governments of the several
States acknowledge an aggregate of debt, amounting to about
three hundred and fifty-seven millions ($357,000,000). This
should be added, because it is a part of the load the people have
to carry; the payment of interest and principal must be provid-
ed from the taxes of the same tax-payers who pay the Federal
debt. So, in comiparing the burdens of the United States with
those of its neighbors, fairness requires the same addition to be
made; because here, this Federal, and these State Govern-
ments only iperform, together, the same functions whict in
Europe are rendered to the people by the central governments.
The State debts, then, must be added.

But this is not all. It is vei-y well knoWn thabthe Northern
people were so averse to military service, that enlistments were,
in most cases, procured only by high 'bounties. When the
Central Government began to draw imperative requisitions
for men on the States, the local authorities, instead of simply
drafting the required numbers from among their own militia,
almost universally made arrangements for purchasing merce-
naries to supply their quotas; thus relieving their own citizens
from the dreaded service. The price usually paid, towards the
end, for the human cattle for Confederate shambles, was not
less than fifteen hundred dollars each. A sorry commentary,

144 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.

by the way, upon the courage and patriotism of that people,
that so large a bribe was needed to persuade them to "save the
life of the nation." But thus it came to pass, that not only the
States, but cities, counties, country towns, and even the rural
subdivisions called, among that people, townships, raised loans,
and purchased substitutes. Laws were passed to authorize
them to make such loans, and to levy the taxes necessary to
provide for their interest. Money had indeed been raised, in
many cases, for internal improvements, in the same mode; and
similar loans for canals and railroads remain as a part of the
popular burdens. The aggregate of these bounty-debts cannot
be estimated by us, from any evidences in our reach; but some
data will be given to enable the reader to approximate it. The
city of Philadelphia alone, it is believed, owes a debt of forty-
four millions ($44,000,000), chiefly for bounties. It was a very
"loyal" city. It claims about six hundred thousand (600,000)
souls. The State of New York admits a bounty-debt of its
own of twenty-six millions ($26,000,000). But cities, counties
and townships, within the State, have also their own little debts
for this and similar objects, in addition. The Comptroller of
yie State Treasury received incomplete returns of these local
debts, from which he made an aggregate, at the end of last
year, of eighty-three and a half millions ($83,500,000). The
State of New York claims a population of three million eight
hundred thousand (3,800,000). The two instances of this city
and this State, may indicate how the local burdens have accrued.
A^few other items may aid in our approximation. The
Federal Secretary of War Informs us that, in the latter part
of the war, there were one hundred and thirty-six thousand
(136,000) re-enlistmerts of the veterans honorably discharged.
It is well known that these usually received the highest boun-
ties. If we place them at fifteen hundred dollars each, these
cost the Northern people two hundted and four millions
($204,000,000). The system olf bounties was general from
May, 1863, until the end of the war. The Government itself
fixed the minimum price of a man at three hundred dollars,
by appointing that sum as the cost of an exemption from the
draft. But it is well known that few substitutes were pur-
chased at so cheap a rate. The Secretary of War informs us
that after May 1, 1863, there were one million six hundred and

THE UNtTKD STATfiS AS A MtLtTARY NATION. 145

thirty-four thousand (1,634,000) enlistments. Placing the cost
of each of these enlistments at three hundred dollars, which
is far helow the average bounty, somebDdy had to pay for them
four hundred and ninety millions (|490,000,000). The "boun-
ty-jumpers,' as is well known, perpetrated immense frauds;
and the numher of hDunties paid them was far larger than that
of the enlistments.

We are thus convinced that this huge "'unknown quantity"
in the problem, the local and State hountj'-debt, cannot be less
than many hundreds of milHons of dollars. But in estimating
the actual financial burden which the people of the United
States must carry, through any future war, all this must be
added. It was a part of the cost of the Confederate war. The
interest and principal of it must he paid hy the same people
who have the Federal debt to pay. If the policy, pursued hy
the Government as to the local obligatiDns incurred in the war
of the Eevolution, is again to prevail, all these boun(;j-debts
should he assumed and funded by the United States. AJready
this claim is heard in many quarters. The recognized State
and Federal debts, as we have seen, amount to three billion
four hundred and forty-three million dDllars ($3,443,195,000).
It is most manifest, that the total mass of public debt now
resting on the American people (nearly the whole incurred in
the late war), for the payment of which provision must he
made hy taxation, must be at least four billions of dollars
($4,000,000,000). Mr. Andrew Johnson, late President of the
United States, and an ardent advocate of the war, alw'ays
affirmed constantly, that the total cost of the war, to the tax-
payers, would prove to be five billions (15,000,000,000). He,
of course, is good authority. And the interest on this debt is
f Tom five to seven and one fifth per centum!

Some may he so thoughtless as to suppose that repudiation
would lift this vast incubus off the shoulders Df the nation.
The fatal objections to reaching that deliverance hy that mode,
are, first, that nobody would lend his money for the second war
to a debtor who so treacherDusly rid himself of his obligations
for the first; whence the national credit would at once succumb;
and, secondly, tliat the annihilation of so many securities of
public debt would inmiediately produce a financial convulsion,
at whicii the private wealth at immense numbers at the North,

146 THE UNITED STATES AS A AtlLITARf NATION.

already to a very large extent speculative! and factitious, would
collapse, like a soap bubble pierced with a straw. The over-
'burdened credit of the government cannot be lifted up by
repudiation.

Another burden which the people of the United States must
carry, through any future war, along with the interest of its
existing debt, is the cost of its present adminisCration upon the
peace establishment. In the year 1868, the Federal income
was about three hundred and seventy-six and a half millions
$376,500,000), and the expenditures were about one million
■(1,000;000) m<!>re. Wehrive seeti that one' item of this expen-
diture was the annual interest upon the debt, one hundred and
forty millions and a half (140,500,000). This left something
more than two hundred and thirfy-six millions (236,000,000)
as the cost of the military, naval and civil service. But the
governments of the States, which are an unavoidable part of
the public burdens, cost last year nearly seventy-six and a half
milKons (76,600,000). Adding this sum, we find that the Ameri-
can people actually paid to their governments, the last year,
four hundred and fifty-three millions of dollars (|453,000,000).
And this was exclusive of the support of religion (with which
the governments. State and Federal, profess to have nothing
to do), and excluave also of the costs of municipal administra-
tion, and of the larger part of the cost of the national education,
which are paid for by the people separately. Nor is the interest
on the vast bounty debts included.

Let this burden be compared with those borne by the lead-
ing nations of Europe, which are usually believed to tax the
strength of their subjects as severely as nature can well endure.
Austria, with a million (1,000,000) more of people than the
United States, pays her government annually two hundred and
thirty-eight and a half millions of dollars (|238,500,000). The
forty-four millions (44,000,000) of Frenchmen are taxed, in all,
three hundred and eighty-five millions (385,000,000). The
British Empire collects a national revenue of three hundred
and thirty-seven millions (337,000,000). It appears, therefore,
that the people of the United States now have the most costly
and onerous system of government to sustain, and the heaviest
taxation, in a season of profound peace, of any people in Chris-
tendom. But the most startling fact is, that their money goes

THE UNITED STATES AS A MrUTAftr NATIOW. 147

SO very short a way towards defending the country. While
Auf.aria, out of the revenues above mentioned, pays the interest
on her debt, and the whole cost of government, she sustains
also two hundred and forty- four thousand (244,000) armed men,
as hei' peace establishment; France, four hundred and flfty-
eijjht thousand (458,000), and England, two hundred and six
thousand (206,000). But the United States, with an income
larger by one-fourth than the largest of them, and a home pop-
ulation whose government should cost little, seeing the people
in theory govern themselves, sustains only fifty-six thousand
eight hundred and eighty-one (56,881) soldiers, sailors, and
marines, to defend the country! The comparison of this mili-
tary establishment with that of Great Britain, is especially
damaging, because that empire, like the United States, has no
conscription, and raises its aj;Tnies by enlistment and pay. How
frightful must be that incompetency, disorder, and peculation,
which, out of revenues so immense, effects so little for national
defense!

In the United States a smaller population actually pays a
larger sum than in any of the old despotisms of Europe. It is
thus demonstrated that the taxation must be more onerous
here than in any of them. Let this be illustrated in a few par-
ticulars. The municipal government of the city of New York,
with about nine hundred thousand (900,000) people, costs
twenty-two millions of dollars ($22,000,000) annually, in addi-
tion to the State and Federal imposts. The taxes of the citizens
of the State of New York exacted by State laws, amount to
twelve dollars ($12) annually for every soul. There are town-
ships in that State where the Federal, State, and local taxes
make six pet centum upon the total values of all the property of
every species, rated at a full valuation. The income tax of
Oreat Britain is now (if we mistake not) two and a half pence
on the pound sterling of clear income, which is but little over
one per centum. The income tax of the United States is five
per centum. This tax in Great Britain yielded, last year, not
quite thirty millions of dollars (f 30,000,000) ; in the United
States, thirty-three millions ($33,000,000). But the former
country, with its hundred and flfty-four millions (154,000,000)
of commercial tributaries, is five times as able to pay an income
tax as the United States.

148 THE nNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.

It may 'be objected to this surprising picture, that it cannot
be consistent with the elastic prosperity of this teeming, new
country. The reply is, that the country is not now either elastic
or prosperous. The burden of taxation is actually crushing it
into a collapse. All industrious classes, who do not make their
gains at the expense of others, are sensibly overburdened. The
traffic of the country is unhealthy, and the circulation of com-
modities is extravagantly costly. Notwithstanding nominal
high wages, the laborer is more and more depressed; and in
our great metropDlis every tenth human being is a pauper in
midsummer!

Now if the people of the United States, with inferior num-
bers and ability for enduring taxation, are, in this time of peace,
burdened with a larger debt, heavier taxes, and a more costly,
prodigal, and inefficient government, than any of their great
neighbors, it is plain they are financially helpless for great
military enterprises against those neighbDrs.

But let this argument be enhanced by a view of the present
state of the national credit. The only currency of the people
is a depreciated paper, based, not on a capital stock of specie,
but on the promises to pay of this overburdened debtor, the
Government. And meantime the bonds of the United States,
bearing six pir cent, interest in specie, fluctuate in London
from seventy-two to eighty- three in the hundred; while the
scrip of the British national debt, paying an interest of only
three and a half per cent., sells almost at par! The present
burdehs of the people so obviously tax their utmost strength,
that the credit of the Government staggers under those burdens
in the hour of peace, and in the glow of recent victory. Let a
grave danger arise, bringing the certainty of another great
addition to this monstrous load, and the whole fabric of public
credit would dissolve at once into ruin.

The Washington Government, if it is wise, will therefore
cultivate a very pacific demeanor towards all its powerful
nedghboPs. And it will be further inclined to this prudent
policy, if it considers the tendency of its methods for conquer-
ing tbe South, and iov treating it when conquered, to make the
ex-Confederates trustworthy and staunch supporters of its flag
under the burdens and trials of another war. The lesson to be
drawn from this review of the "situation" is, therefore, o^bvious-
ly one of peace.

STONEWALL lACKSON/

A lecture delivered in Baltimore in November, 1872, by Rev. Dr.
R. L. Dabney.

(Anything from the able pen of Dr. Dabney concerning
Stonewall Jackson would be read with interest. His position
as Chief of Staff, his intimate personal relations with the great
chieftain, and his study of his character and his campaigns
when acting as his chosen biographer, peculiarly fit Dr. Dab-
ney to tell the story of Jackson's life, or to delineate his char-
acter. We are confident, therefore, that our readers will thank
us for giving them the following paper, even though there may
be dissent from some of the views presented. We print it just
as it was originally delivered, only regretting that we are eom-
pelled by the press upon our pages to divide it into two parts.)

I am expected to speak to-night of Stonewall Jackson. The
subject sounds remote, antiquated, in these last days. How
seldom does that name, once on every tongue, mix itself now-a-
days, with the current speech of men? Is it not already a fos-
sil name, almost? I must ask you, in order to inspect it agfiin,
to lift off sundry superincumbent strata of your recent living
memories and interests, to dig down to it. Great is the con-
trast wrought by the nine calendar years which have inter-
vened since the glory of conquering Jackson, and the sequel
"Jackson is dead," were blown by fame'^ trumi>et from Chan-
cellorsville over all lands, and thrilled the praecordia in every
Southern bosom. Then, the benumbing shock which the words
struck into our hearts, taught us how great and heroic this man
had made: himself, how essential to our cause, how foremost in
all our hopes. And when his great Superior said (with a mag-
nanimity which matches Jackson's heroism), "Tell iiim he has
lost his left arm.; but I have lost my right arm"; all men felt
"Yea! Lee has lost his right arm; the cause has lost its right

1 Prom 'SoiiWieni Htntorlcal Society Papert." April, May, 188,1. 149

150 STONEWALL JAOKSON.

arm." And the thickening disasters which that loss soon en-
tailed, taught them, educated them, for a time, to appreciate
Jackson's as the transcendant fame of all our war. It sounded
in every true heart; it echoed in us from the thunder of the final
downfall. But now, who recalls it to his speech?

Why this? Was that fame an empty simulaceum worthy
only to be a nine-days' wonder, or was his devotion a 'blunder?
Or are our people changed, so as to be no longer able to appre-
ciate that devotion? We hope not, for it were a sad thing for
them, betokening moral death, decaiy and putrescence, that
they should become incapable of a heart-homage to this name.
We hope not.

But it is already antiquated; for the world moves fast in
these times. Many things have happened in these times, to stir,
to fatigue, to wring our hearts; great wrongs to be endured
passively until endurance obtused the sensibility, multiplied
tragical wails of friends sinking in the abyss of poverty and
obscure despair; a social revolution; a veritable cataclysmus,
which has swept away our old, fair, happy world, with its pleas-
ant homes fragrant with ancestral virtues and graces, and has
left us a new world, as yet chiefly a world of quicksand and
slime; with no olive tree, alas, as yet growing. Yes; we have
lived long in these nine evil years; to us they are a century of
experiences. We are odl, very old, superannuated perhaps,
those of us who remember Jackson, and the days when he
fought for freedom. Will you not then bear with our garrulity
a little, should we even babble of our hero? For it is a pleas-
ant thing to recall those old days of wearing the grey, with a
Jackson to lead us to assured victory, when we were men as
yet ; with rights and freedom of our own, slipping then indeed
from our too inept hands, yet enough our own still to fight for;
when we had hope, and endeavor and high emprise, inspired
by our leader's example; and hardship and danger for the
cause, endured cheerily, as a sport; when we had a country,
loved all the more proudly that she was insulted and bleeding.
The memory of those days is bright ; but it is attended by a
contrast most black and grim. Over against that splendid past,
there glooms the shadow of the Mammon-Molock, named by
mockery, "reoonstrnction,'' with its most noisome scalawag
odor, reeking of the pit. The joy of this reminiscence must be

STONEWALL JACKSON. 151

then a mixed joy, and the duty assigned me, while sacred and
not unpleasing — ^never shall it be unpleaslng to us to celebrate
the fame of Jackson; for him the shadow touches not — ^yet a
duty difficult and sad.

I remember well, that naught except a circumstance is deem-
ed by you to have endowed this hand with any fitness to re-
fresh the characters of that fame; the circumstance of a brief
association with his person during the most glorious part of
his career. You would fain hear from me what manner of man
he appeared to one who was next to him, the ordinary mouth-
piece of his will, the sharer of his bivouac and his morsel, who
got the nearest glimpses through the portals of that reserve,
which no man might enter, who watched closely, and he may
even venture to affirm, intelligently, the outworkings of the
secret power within. This so reasonable desire of yours I pro-
pose to satisfy, not by presuming to name and catalogue his at-
tributes, analytically, by my judgment, or conceit, as may be —
for this would be to regard you as pupils, rather than patrons —
nor yet, by studying the cumulation of superlative, laudatory
epithets, — for this would imply that I deemed you not only pu-
pils, but gullible — but by painting before you some select, sig-
nificant action of Jackson's own, wherein you may judge for
yourselves as freely as other spectators, what manner of man
this was. And I exhort you to expect in this description no
grace, save the homely one of cle<tr truth: homely it may be
and most ungamished, yet truly what my eyes saw and my
ears heard. F-or is not this the quality most worthy of him
who would portray Jackson? And should the narrative have,
with its other unskillfulness, that of a certain egotism, I pray
you bear in mind, that the necessity of this emerges in a man-
ner from my task. For what is my qualification therefor? save
that it was my fortune, along wtth many worthier men in the
ranks to behold (not my merit to do) some of these wH)nders
whereof yoii would fain hear; and when you ask for the testi-
mony of the eye-witness, the humble Ego must needs speaik in
the egotistical first person.

And first, that I should ever have been invited to be ne'it
liis person at all, was characteristic of Jackson. He, who was
an alumnus of the. military academy at West Point, and noth-
ing but a professional military man all his life, was least bound

162 STONEWALL JACKSON.

in professional trammels. This trait he signified, in part, by
his selection of successive chiefs for his staff, none of whom
had even snuffed the classical air of West Point or Lexington,
my intended predecessor and actual successor (J. A. Armstrong
and C. J. Faulkner), and the next successor (A. S. Pendleton),
but chiefly by the selection of me, a man of peace, and soldier
of the Prince of Peace, innocent, even in youth, of any tincture
of military knowledge. Herein was indeed a strange thing;
that I, the parson, tied to him by no blood tie, or interest, and
by acquaintanceship only slightest and most transient; that I,
at home nursing myself into partial convalescence from tedious
fever, contracted in the performance of my spiritual functions
among the soldiers of the previous campaign; that I, conscious
only of unfitness, in body and mind, for any direct help to the
cause, save a most sore apprehension of its need of all right-
eous help, and true love to it; that such an one as I should, in
the spring of 1862, be invited by him to that post. Verily, had
not all known "this Is a man that doth not jest," it should have
seemed to me a jest. But the wisest men, speaking most in
Grod's fear, replied to me: "See that thou be not rash to shut
this door, if it 'be that Glod hath opened unto thee." And /
feared to shut ti, until he, by whom the call was uttered, should
know how unfit I was to enter in. Further than this, in very
truth, my mind went not.

But if you would hear on what wise Jackson was wont to
speak, these are the i/sissima verba:

"Near Mt. Jackson, April 8th, 1862.
"My Hear Doctor:

"The extra session of our Legislature will prevent Mr. Jas.
D. Armstrong, of the Virginia Senate, from joining me as my
A. A. Greneral. If the position would be acceptable to you,
please take the accompanying recommendatiDn to Bichmond,
get the appointment, and join me at once, provided you can
make your arrangements to remain with me during the re-
mainder of the war. Your rank will be that of Major. Your
duties will require early rising and industry. Please let me
hear from you at once.

"Very truly your friend,

"T. J. JACKSON."

STONEWALL JAOESOIT. 153

Now, is not the fashion of these words a very revelation to
him who will consider of the fashion of the man? He has
time to tell that which is essential, but no word more. He
makes it known, that his war means work, and is no dilettan-
tism, or amateur soldiering. Nor is it the warfare of gallant bat'
barians, wherein much castramental laziness or even license
can redeem itself by some burst of daring and animal phrensy;
but "early rising and industry." "Now, wilt thou, or wilt thou
not?" And, if yes, then let thy act follow thy assent without
dallying. But yet, only on one. condition must the "yes" be
said to such as him, to remain unchanged "during. the remain-
der of the war." He who would aspire to work and fight as
Jackson's next assistant, must be one who would not look back
after he had put his hand to the plough ; but one, who like his
master, came to stay with his work until it was ended, except,
perchance, God should first end him.

Thus then went I, to show Jackson why I might not enter
into this door of service, and yet seem no recreant (in staying
out) to my country's needs. 1 found him at a place, gateway of
the mountains that befriended him, named of the vicinage Con-
rad's Store; the Shenandoah fiood before him, and beyond, mul-
titudinous enemies thronging — held at 'bay, checkmated, gnash-
ing vainly upon him; while he, in the midst of din and march-
ing battalions, going to the watch-post, and splashing squad-
rons, splashing through mire most villainous, and of snow-
wracks and sleet of the ungenial spring,— of "winter lingering
in the lap of spring," — stood calm, patient, modest, yet serious,
as though abashed at the meanest man's reverence for him ; but
at sternest peril unabashed. After most thoughtful, yea, fem-
inine care of food and fire for me, he took me apart saying, "I
am glad that you have come." But I told him ttat I was come,
I feared, uselessly, only to reveal my unfitness, and retire; al-
ready half-broken by camp-disease, and enervated by student's
toil. "But Providence," replied he, "will preserve your health,
if he designs to use you." I was unused to arms, and ignorant
of all military art. "You can learn," said he. "When would
you have me assume my oflSce?" "Rest to-day, and study the
'Articles of War,' and begin to-morrow." "But I have neither
outfit, nor arms, nor horse, for immediate service." "My quar-
termaster shall lend them, until you procure your own." "But

154 STONBWALL JACKSON.

I have a graver disqualification, which candor requires me to
disclose to you, first of mortals; I am not sanguine of success;
our leaders and legislators do not seem to me to comprehend
the crisis, nor our people to respond to it; and, in truth, the
impulse which I feel to fly out of my sacred calling, to my
country's succor, is chiefly the conviction that her need is so
desperate. The effect on me is the reverse of that which the
old saw ascribes to the rats when they believe the ship is sink-
ing." "But," saith he, laughing; "If the rats wjll only run
this way, the ship will not sink." Thus was I overrnled.

You will remember that theory of his character, which
most men were pleased to adopt, when he was first entrusted
with command: "This man," said they, "is true, and brave, and
religious; but narro.w and mechanical. He is the man to lead
a fighting battalion, under the direction of a head that can
think; but strategy, prudence, science, are not in him. His
very reserve and reluctance to confer result from his own con-
sciousness, that he has no faculty of speech nor power of
thought, to debate with other men." Had I been capable of so
misjudging his silence and modesty, as to adopt this theory,
his career must ere this have blown It all info thin air; the first
Manassas and Kernstown, and the retreat before Banks had al-
ready done that, for all save fools. All who served under him
had already learned that there was in him abundant thought
and counsel, deep and sagacious. He asked questions of. all;
sought counsel of none; "gave no account to any man of his
matters." Once only, did council of war ever sit for him, to
help him to "make up his mind." And it was then, by their
inferior sagacity, made up so little to his liking, that he asked
such aid no more. Power of speech there was in him also, as
I witnessed; such truly eloquent speech, as uttered quickly the
very heart of his thought, and could fire the heart of the list-
ener. But he deemed that the controversy he waged was no
longer parliamentary; that the only logic seemly for us at that
stage, was the ultima ratio Regum To such respondent as the
times then appointed unto him, the cannon peal, and the charg-
ing yell of the "men in grey," were the reply, which to him
seemed eloquent: all else was emptier than silence.

But instead of leading you to a brief review of his whole
career, which would perforce be trite, because hurried, I would

STONEWALL JACKSON. 155

describe to you some one of the exploits of his genius, which
best illustrates it. One of these I suppose to be Port Republic.
Let me, then, present it to you.

To comprehend the battles of Port Republic, you must re-
call the events which ushered them in; the defeat of Milroy at
McDowell in the early May of 1862, that of Banks at Winches-
ter; the concentration of Generals Fremont and Shields towards
Strasbourg to entrap Jackson at that place; his narrow escape,
and retreat up the great Valley to Harrisonburg. He tirought
with him, perhaps, a force of twelve thousand men, footsore
from 'forced marches, and decimated by their own victories. No
more succors oould come to Jackson from the east; the ooil of
the snake around Lee and the Capital was becoming too clbse
for him to assist others; and all that the government expected
of Jackson was, to retreat indefinitely, fortunate if he could at
once escape complete destruction, and detain-the pursuers from
a concentration against Richmond. Such was the outlook of
affairs upon the 8th of June. On the 11th of June, both the
pursuers were in full retreat, broken and shattered, fleeing to
shelter themselves near the banks of the Potomac, while Jack-
son was standing intact, his hands full of trophies, and ready
to turn to the help of Lee in his distant death-grapple with Mr-
Clellan. Such was the achievement. Let us see how his genius
wrought it out.

The skill of the strategist is in availing himself of the na-
tural features of the country, which may be helpful to him. In
this case these features were mainly the Blue Ridge mountains,
dividing the great Valley from Piedmont, Virginia; the Shen-
andoah rivers a noble stream at all times, and then everywhere
unfordable because of its swollen state; and the 'Great Valley
Turnpike, a paved road extending parallel to the mountain .and
river, from the Potomac to Staunton. From a point east of
Strasburg to another point east of Harrisonburg extends the
Masanuttin mountain, a ridge of fifty miles length, parallel to
the Blue Ridge, and dividing the Great Valley into two val-
leys. Down the eastern of these, usually called the Page-county
valley, the main river passes, down the other passes the great
road. Up this road, west of the Masanuttin mountain was Jack-
son now retreating, in his deliberate, stubborn fashion, while
Fremont's 18,000 pursued him. Up another road parallel, but

156 STONEWALL JACKSON.

on the eastern side both of that mountain and of the main river,
marched Shields, with his 8,000 picked troops. Neither had any
pontoon train, for Banks had burned his in his impotent flight
in May. Why did not Shields, upon coming over from the
Piedmont to Front Royal, for the purpose of intercepting Jack-
son in the lower valley, at once cross the Shenandoah and place
himself in effectual concert with his partner, Fremont? He
had possession of a bridge at Fro&t Royal. They were endeav-
oring to practice a little lesson in the art of war, which they
fancied they had learned from the great teacher, Jackson, whicti
they desired to improve, because it was learned, as they soreiy
felt, at the cost of grievous stripes, and indignities worse than
those bf the dunce-block. But their teacher would show them
again, that they were not yet instructed enough to descend from
that "bad eminence." Let me explain this first lesson.

The Blue-Ridge, parallel to the great Valley road, is pene-
trated only at certain "gaps," by roads practicable for armies.
On the east of it lay the teeming Piedmont land, untouched by
ravage as yet, and looking towards the capital and the main
army of the Confederacy. This mountain, if Jackson chose to
resort to it, was both his fastness and his "base of operations" ;
for the openings of its gaps offered him natural strongholds,
unassailable by an enemy, with free communication at his rear
for drawing supplies or for retreating. When Banks first pur-
sued him up the Valley, he had turned aside at Harrisonburg
to the eastward, and seated himself behind the river at Oon-
rad's'Store in the mouth of Swift Run Gap.. And then Banks
began to get his first glimpse of his lesson in strategy. He
found that his coveted way (up the great Valley road) was now
parallel to his entmys hast. Even into his brain did the in-
convenience of such line of advance now insinuate itself, and
he paused at Harrisonburg. Paused awkwardly, with the road
open to his coveted prize, Staunton, the strategical key of the
commonwealth, with not a man in gray there to affright his
doughty pickets: the quarry trembling for the expected swoop
of the vulture. Forward, General Banks. Carpt diem; the
road is open! But Banks would not forward — could not!
There was a poised eagle upon the vulture's flank, with talons
and beak ready to tear out the vitals beneath his left wing.
Shall Banks face to the left and drag the eagle from his aerie.

STONEWALL JACKSON. 157

and then advance? Let him try that. Then, there is the water-
flood in front to be crossed, only by one long, narrow bridge,
which would be manifestly a bridge of IJodi, but not with ob-
tuse, kraut-consuming Austrians behind it. And there is the
mountain, opening its dread jaws, right and left, to devour the
assailant. No, Banks cannot even try that! What then shall
he try? Alas, poor man, he knows not what; he must consider,
sitting meanwhile upon that most pleasant village of Harrison-
burg, amidst its green meadows. Is not the village now hie
veritable dunce-stool for the time, where he shall sit, reluctant,
uneasy, "swelling and snubbing," until it appear whether he can
leam his horn-book or not? And it was while he was there
sitting, the hom-book not mastered, that Jackson like the tor-
nado, made his flret astounding gyration, his first thunder-clap
at McDowell, away on the western mountain, his second echo-
ing to it from Front Boyal on the far east, his crowning, rend-
ing crash at Winchester. And Masters Banks and Shields find
themselves with incomprehensible smoke and dust, clean out-
side the school-room, yea, the play-ground, they scarcely know
how (they "stood not on the order of their going"), with eyes
very widely glaring, yet with but little light of speculation in
them.

This was lesson number first. And now say my masters to
each other, "This lesson which cost us so dear, learned by buffet-
ings so rude, yea, even kicks, with the bitter chorus of inex-
tinguishable laughter of rivals, shall we not profit by it? Shall
we not use it in our turn? Yea, we will not be always dunces:
we will let people see that we can say, at least, that lesson
again. The lion will retreat surlily, after he brake the toils at
Strasburg, up the great Valley road, growling defiance, huge
ribs of the prey between his jaws. Fremont shall closely pur-
sue his rear with 18,000, and Shields shall advance abreast, be-
tween him and the mountain, with 8,000, to nead him off from
his rock-fastness. We shall circumvent him in the open field;
we shall confound him on the right hand and the left; the one
shall amuse him in front, when he stands at bay, and the other
shall smite him by guile under the ribs; and we shall take his
spoils." And, therefore, it was that Shields crossed not the
river below, at Strasburg, but remained apart from his mate.

They forgot that it is the prerogative of genius, to have no

158 STONEWALL JACKSON.

need to repeat itself; its resources are ever new; it can invent,
can create upon occasion, , It is dull dunoe-hood, which only
knows how to repeat the lesson that has been well beaten into
it. The Southern Lion, then, marches surlily up the great Val-
ley, turning at bay here and there, when the whelps dog his
heels too insiolently, with a glare and a growl instructive to
them to observe a wholesome interval; while Ashby, ubiqui-
tious, peers everywhere over the Masanuttin, upon the advance
of Shields — bums bridge after bridge. Mount Jackson brieve.
White House bridge, Columbia bridge, entailing continued in-
sulation upon him. The mighty hunt reaches Harrisonburg.
Will it turn again eastward to the mountain? Shields shall
see, he reaches Conrad's store. There is the old lair, the muni-
tion of rocks, but no Jackson seeking to crouch in it; only the
bridge leading to it (and which alone oould lead him out of it),
just in flames. Evidently Jackson will teach some other les-
son this time, and Shields and Fremont must learn it, at what
cost they may. He will turn eastward again, and resort to the
river and the mountains, wiose floods and forests he will make
light for him, even as "the stars in their courses fought against
Sisera," but under conditions wholly novel.

Now that you may comprehend Jackson, I must endeavor
to make you see this region of Port Republic, as nearly as may
be. Behold then the side road from Harrisonburg to that vil-
lage, passing over sundry miles of those high hills, common to
calcareous regions, (lofty as the highest viewed from the north-
ernmost end of your Druid Hill Park), ^mostly parallel to each
other, and at right angles to the road, clad also frequently with
woodlands upon their summits, the vales between fllled with
farms. .Close at the foot of the last of these ridges flows the
shining river, here running almost due east, as does the great
mountain parallel to it, three miles away. Look thitherward,
and between you and that green rampart you see, first the water,
then smooth meadows far below you, spreading wider to the
left, away to Lewiston, until their breadth expands almost to a
mile ; while underneath you stretches the long bridge, and nest-
les the white village amidst the level fields. Beyond, the forest
begins, thick, tangled and bosky, pierced by more narrow, ser-
pentine, but easy roadways, than your eye would suspect, and
spreads away, rising into hills as it recedes towards the true

STONEWALL JACKSON. ] 59

mountain foot. Just below the village comes a sparkling tribu-
tary, South river, deemed scarcely worthy of a bridge, and min-
gles its waters at the angle of the little green with its elder sis-
ter ; while the one broad thoroughfare leads up the village and
away to the southwest to Staunton ; and the other, fording the
lesser stream to the left, plunges into the forest to seek Brown's
Gap. Look now, far away to the east, where river and moun-
tain begin to lose themselves in the summer haze. You per-
ceive that the tangled wilderness, after embaying one more
modest farm below Lewiston, closes in upon the bank of the
stream, ending for many miles, champaign and tillage, and al-
lowing but one narrow highway to Conrad's Store, fifteen miles
away. Such is your landscape from your elevated outlook
northwest of the river; and this is the chess-board upon which
the master hand is to move knights and castles, not his own
merely, but also his adversary's.

Saturday, the 7th of June, Jackson led all his troops to
those high hills north-west of the river, posting half of them
three miles back, under Ewell, to confront Fremont, and the re-
mainder upon the heights overlooking Port- Republic, while he
himself crossed the bridge and lodged in that village. That
evening Fremont sat down before Ewell, and Shields, perceiv-
ing that he must seek Jackson still farther, pushed his army up
the narrow forest road from Conrad's Store, and showed its
head at Lewiston. Thus, Jackson's army and Fremont's were
upon the one side of the river. Shield's and the village upon the
other. To cross it there rismained now but the one passage,
which lay under the muzzles of Jackson's cannon, for all the
bridges above and_ below had been burned.

Fremont and Shields would now, therefore, apply the old
strategy, which red tape once deemed appropriate for the super-
ior numbers. They would surround Jackson on sundry sides,
with divided forces, froin different directions, and thus crush
him-. The lessons of the old Napoleon had not been enough to
teach them; this new Virginian Napoleon will, perhaps, illum-
inate their obtuseness, but with light too sulphurous for their
delectation. This old plan, attempted against a wakeful and
rapid adversary, capable of striking successive blows, only in-
vites him "to divide and cx>nquer." This Jackson will now teach
them in his own time, and it shall be lesson number second.

160 STONEWALL JACKSON.

They shall never strike together; nay, Shields shall never strike
at all, but be stricken; thus hath the master of the game al-
ready decided.

Shall Jackson, then, hold Shields at arms' length, and
strike the larger prey, Fremont, first? This the impassable
river and the dominant position of his artillery overlooking the
bridge, enabled him to do. He might have driven back
Shields's co-operative advance in the meadows 'beneath, by a
storm of shells, while he assailed his partner three miles away;
and Shields might have beguiled the day, by looking helplessly
over at the smoke surging up over the tree-tops, and listening to
the thunder of the battle rolling back to Harrisonburg with
Fremont's defeat; or, by reckoning when his own time would
come, if that better pleased him. Shall Jackson, then, strike
Fremont first? "Yes," said Ewell: "Strike the larger game
first." But Jackson said, "No. The risk is less to deal first
with the weaker. In a battle with Shields, should disaster per-
chance befall us, we shall be near our trains, and our way of
retreat; and true courage, however much prudent audacity it
may venture, never boasts itself invulnerable. But if an in-
auspicious attack were made on Fremont, the defeated Con-
federates would have behind them a deep river, to be crossed
only by one narrow bridge, and a line of retreat threatened by
Shields's unbroken force. Again, Shields defeated, had but
one difficult and narrow line of retreat, between the flood and
the mountain, and might be probably destroyed. Fremont, if
defeated, had an open country and many roads by which to re-
tire; and could not be far pursued, with Shields's force still un-
broken threatening our rear." Thus argued Jackson, but only
to himself, then; he was wont to give no account of his meas-
ures to others.

Shall Jackson, then, prepare to deal with his weaker^dver-
sary, by withdrawing all his arms to the Southern side, burn-
ing the bridge behind him, and thus leaving Fremont an idle
spectator of Shields's overthrow? Again, No; and for two rea-
sons: First, this would permit Fremont to crown all those
dominating heights on the north side, with his artillery, so that
Shields, though still separated from hts friends by the water,
might enjoy the effectual shelter of their guns. And second,
supposing Shields dealt with satisfactorily, then it might be

STONEWALL .TACK80N. 161

desired to pay the same polite attentions to Fremont; and Jack-
son meant not to deprive himself too soon of the means of ac-
cess to him. Shields, then, shall be first attended to, on the
south side; but yet the bridge not destroyed, nor the heights be-
Tond surrendered.

Paper No. 2.

(Con elusion.]

This plan, then, is clear even to the civic apprehension, as
offering fewest risks and largest promise — in a word, the per-
fection of sagacity; and with so many men in gray as might
match two-fold numbers of enemies (odds rather favorable, if
not light and trivial, compared with the customary), it seems to
promise safely. Perhaps some may even say that these reason-
ings are clear and just, even too much so to imply peculiar
genius in Jackson. Remember, friend, Columbus and his egg.
Jackson's perfotmance hath illustrated this problem for you,
made it all plain, which to him was all novel, urgent, and to
have its right solution by him alone invented, then and there,
under pressure of dire responsibility and penalty of portentious
ruin and manifold destruction. These, friend, thou wouldist not
have found propitious or helpful for clear meditation and judg-
ment the night of that 7th of June. Believe me, the problem
did not then seem easy, or even soluble to us, as men whispered
by the watch-fires, with bated breath: "Jackson is surrounde'd."
Our eyes, then beclouded with apprehension, confused, saw no
light ; but he, clear-eyed and serene, with genius braced by his
steadfast heart and devout faith, saw all possibilities, and
whence deliverance might dawn out of seeming darkness. And
these two chiefest traits of greatness I reoognized in Jackson
through these transactions: First, that urgent and critical
peril did not agitate nor confuse his reason, nor make him hang
vacillating, uneasy and impotent to decide between the alterna-
tives, but only neiTed and steadied his faculties; that he ever
thought best where other men eould least think. Second, that
he knew how to distinguish the decisive points from the un-
essential, and, grasping those with iron strength, to form from
them an inflexible conclusion.

162 STONEWALL JACKSON.

Events, then, had showed Jackson these things by the close
of Saturday, June the 7th. Why did he delay to strike this
time, so unlike his wont? The 8th was "the Sabbath of the
Lord," which he would fain honor always, if the wicked would
let him. Not by him should the sanctity and rejMjse of that
bright, calm Sabbath be broken. When I went to him early,
saying, "I suppose, Greneral, divine service is out of the question
to-day?" his reply was, "Oh, by no means; I hope you will
preach in the Stonewall Brigade, and I shall attend myself —
that is, if we are not disturbed by the enemy." Thus I retired,
to doff the gray for the time and don the parson's black. But
those enemies cherished no such reverence. As at the first
Manassas, and so many other pitched 'battles, they selected the
holy day for an unholy deed. They supposed that the toils were
closed again around the prey, and were eager to win the spoils
before they escaped them. Shields, then, moves first to strike
Jackson's rear, a detachment of cavalry, with two cannon in
front, who sweep away the pickets with a sudden rush, dash
pell-mell across the lesser river, into the street, almost as soon
as the fugitives who would tell their coming. Then is there at
headquarters mad haste, Jackson leaping into the saddle and
galloping (the pass even now scarcely open) for the bridge and
his army; Staff following as they may; one and another too late
(as C!olonel Crutchfield, our Chief of Artillery), and captured in
mid street; a few yet, more too late, and wholly unable to fol-
low ; I, of course, again doffing the black to don the gray, among
these last. Right briskly did those invaders (bold, quick men,
for Yankees), occupy the village, plant cannon at each end of it,
spy out Jackson's trains, and begin to reach forth the hand to
grasp them, while we, cut off and almost powerless, make such
resistance as we may. Haste thee, Master Shields. "What thou
dioest do quickly!" fOrNEMESiSis coming, and thy time is short
— too short, alas! for Shields, for mortal man; for lo! yonder,
one hath clattered through the bridge, and bounding up the
heights where the forces lay, pressed his steed with burning
spurs, his visage all aglow and blue eye blazing, and shouts:
"Beat the Long Boll!" Drums roll with palpitating throb; men
spring to the ranks, cannoneers harness; and ere Shields can
brush away the flimsy obstacles between him and the trains, al-
ready Jackson comes streaming back With Poague's battery and

STONEWALL JACKSON. 163

Fulkerson's tall riflemen — streaming down the hill, a flashing
torrent. There is one crash of thunder, one ringing volley, one
wild yell; the bayonets gleam through the shadowy cavern of
the bridge, and the thing is done. Hostile cannon lie disabled,
horses weltering around them in blood; intruders flee pell-mell,
splashing through the stream, whither they came; while Jack-
son stands alone, over on the green hillside, still, calm, and rev-
erent, his hand lifted in prayer and thanksgiving that the village
is won again. But it is only for a moment, for he knows what
more remains to be done. He remounts the heights, and there,
sure enough, is Shields's army advancing up the meadows from
Lewiston, ranks dressed, banners flying, in all the bravery of
their pomp. Jackson utters a few quiet words, and Poague a
guns, reinforced by others, remove to the next hill, depress their
grim muzzles, and rain down an iron storm across the river,
which lashes Shields back to his covert.

Jackson trusted Providence, and here Providence took care
of him in a most timely way. Our Colonel Crutchfield, detained
amidst his captors in the village street, shall tell how the inter-
vention looted from his point of view. The cavalry Oalonel com-
manding Shields's advance had only just disarmed him, when a
Yankee vidette, who had ventured a little up the Staunton
Road, came hurrying back, his eyes glaring with elation, and ex-
claimed: "Colonel Carrell! j'ou have as good as got Jackson's
trains; they are right above here, in sight; I have seen thous-
ands of the white wagon-covers shining! You have nothing to
do but ride forward and take them I'' "Yes!" avouched Crufch-
fleld's despairing thought, "he has them! There are no train-
guards, and those white sheets, as I wofully know, are the cov-
ers of my ordnance-train, csntaining all the artillery ammuni-
tion and most of the other for the whole army. Colonel Carrell
may not remain here permanently, but nothing can prevent his
riding thither and doing irreparable mischief before Jackson's
return."

Such was also the Yankee's thought, for he immediately or-
dered a strong squadron of his cavalry to go up and capture
those trains. So the horsemen formed in column and advanced
up the street, leaving Colonel Crutchfield in silent despair. But
near the head of that street they were met by a discharge of can-
ister at close quarters. The balls came ricocheting down the

164 STONBWALL JAOKSOK.

road amidst the horses' legs, and back came the column in head
long flight, with a tempest of dust. Said Crutchfield's thoughts
t3 him: "Did those cannons drop from the skies? Did the an-
gels Are them? I thought I was artillery-chief to that army, and
had posted all the guns, and I thought I knew that there was no
artillery there." But none the less did the mysterious guns hold
their post, despite the cannonading oftheYankeebatteryaccom-
panying their advance; and whenever the attacking column of
cavalry was advanced, lash it back to the side-alleys with canis-
ter-shot until Jackson re-occupied the village.

The explanation was that there was a new battery, that of
Captain CarringtDn, of Alibemarle, just arrived, which Colonel
Crutchfield had found so partially equipped and so absolutely
unskilled, that he had relegated it with the baggage, and thus
had actually discounted it in his mind as anything more than
baggage. Two guns of this battery had been brought forward,
with fragments of the fleeing Confederate pickets for supports,
and with that audacity which, as Jackson taught, was on some
occasions the most timely discretion, had made its little fight
and saved the trains.

But now the cannonade answers back from Cross-Keys,
where Fremont crowds upon Ewell, endeavoring to keep his
part of the rendavous. How the fight raged there through the
day, while Jackson vibrated thither and back, watchful of all
points, I need not detain y3u to relate; for your history-books
may tell you all this, as also how Ewell hurled back his adver-
sa^y,,a^d held his own stoutly at all points. One little thing I
may relate, not flattering to myself, which may be to you a reve-
lation of Jackson's mind, (and may also be taken as an example
of the scant encDuragement which suggestions from subordin-
ates usually met). As he sat upon his horse, scanning the re-
gion whither Shields had retired, I moved to his side and
asked: "There is, then, a general action at Cross-Keys?" The
answer was an affirmative nod. "Then General Shields will not
be blind to the importance of his co-operating in it; he will sure-
ly attack you again to-day?" Hereupon he turned upon me, as
though vexed with my obtuseness, with brows knit, and waving
his clenched fist towards the commanding positions of the artil-
lery near him, said : "No, sir ; he cannot do it, sir. I should tear
him to pieces!" And Shields did not do it, because he could
not!

STONEWALL JACKSON. 165

The two Yankee Grenerals have now had their forwardness
a little rebuked; are taught to keep their places quietly until
they are wanted. The Sabbath-eve has descended as calmly as
though no blood or crime had polluted it, and Jackson has rest-
ed until the mid-night hour ushers in the working day with a
waning moon. He then addresses himself bo his work and
takes the aggressive. The trains are sent over to Ewell to carry
rations to his hungry men and to replenish the guns with their
horrid food; a foot bridge is prepared for the infantry over
South river, by which they may be passed towards Lewiston.
Ewell is directed to creep away at daybreak, from Fremont's
front, leaving only a skirmish line to amuse him, and to concen-
trate against Shields. Colonel Patton, one of the two com-
manders who are to lead this line, is sent for to receive his per-
sonal instructions from Jackson. "I found him," says Colonel
Patton, "in the small hours of the night, erect, and elate with
animation and pleasure. He began by saying: 'I am going to
flight. Yes, w€ shall engage Shields this morning at sunrise.
Now, I wish you to throw out all your men before Fremont as
skirmishers, and to make a great show, so as to cause the enemy
to think the whole army are behind you. Hold your position
as well as you can; then fall back when obliged; take a new po-
sition; hold it in the same way, and I will be back to join you in
the morning.' " Colonel Patton reminded him that his brigade
was small, and that the country between Cross-Keys and the
Shenandoah afforded few natural advantages for protecting
such manoeuvres. He therefore desired to know for how long
a time he would be expected to hold Fremont in check. He re-
plied : "By the blessing of Providence, I hope to 'be back by ttn
o'clock."

Here then we have the disclosure of his real plan to which
he makes no reference in his own ofScial report. He proposed
to flinish with Shields, peradventure io finish Shields, by ten
o'clock. Five hours should be enough ta settle*" account, and
he would then go straight back to see after Fremont. By ten
o'clock of the same day he would meet his retreating skirmish
line north of the river, arrest the retrograde movement and be
ready, if Fremont had stomach for it, to flight a second pitched
battle with his army, more than double the one vanquished in
the morning. As to the measure of Shield's disaster, it was to

166 STONEWALL JAOKSON.

be complete; dispersion and capture of his whole force, with all
his material. As Napoleon curtly said at the battle of Rivoli,
concerning the Austrian division detached around the mountain
to beset his rear: "lis sonta nouy," so it seems had Jackson
decreed of Shields',^ men: "They belong to us." Tliis the whole
disposition of his battle clearly discloses. I have described to
you the position which Shields had assumed at Lewlston, with
his line stretching from the fore.st (o the river. Behind him
were a few more smooth and open fields; and then the wilder-
ness closed in to the river, tangled and trackless, overlooking
the position of the Federal line iu height, and allowing but one
narrow track to the rear. It was a true funnel — almost a cul de
sac. These then, were Jackson's dispositions. General Rich-
ard Taylor, with his Louisiana brigade, accompanied by a bat-
tery of artillery, was to plunge into the woods by those tortuous
tracks which I have mentioned, to creep thiiough the labyrinths,
avoiding all disturbance of the enemy, until he had passed clear
beyond his left, was to enfilade his short and crowded line, was
to find position for his battery on some commanding hillock at
the edge of the eopsewood, and was to control the narrow road
which offered the only line of retreat. The Stonewall brigade
was to amuse the enemy meantime, in front, until these fatal
adjustments were made, when the main weight of the army
should crowd upon them, and they should be driven back upon
the impassible river, hemmed in from their retreat, cannonaded
from superior positions, ground, iu short, between the upper
and nether millstones, dissipated and captured. This was the
morning's meal with which Jackson would break his fast. Then,
for liis afternoon work, he designed to re-occnpy his formidable
position in front of Fremont upon the north of the river, and
either fight and win another battle the same day, or postpone
the cou'p de grace to his second adversaiy until the next morn-
ing, as circumstances might dictate.

Such was the splendid audacity of Jackson's real design.
Only a part of it was accomplished; tou may infer that only a
part of it was feasible, and that the design was too audacious
to be all realized. I do not think so; only two trivial circum-
stances prevented the actual realization of the whole. When
the main weight wf the Confederate army was thrown against
Shields he was crushed (though not captured) in the space of

STONEWALL JACKSON. 167

two hours. Again, Fremont had been, on the previous day, so
roughly handled by Ewell, with six thousand men, that he did
not venture even to feel the Confederate position, guarded real-
ly only by a skirmish line, until ten o'clock the next day, and
such was his own apprehension of his weakness, that as soon as
he learned Shields's disaster definitely, he retreated with haste,
even though there was now no bridge by which Jackson might
reach him. Why then a performance so short of the magnifi-
cent conception? The answer was in two little circumstances.
The guide who thought he knew the paths by which to lead Gen-
eral Taylor to the enemy's rear (a professional officer of the en-
gineers) did not know; he became confused in the labyrinth; he
led out the head of the column unexpectedly in front of instead
of beyond their left, and General Taylor concluded he had no
choice but to hold his ground and precipitate the attack. That
was blunder first; a little one seemingly, but pregnant with dis-
appointment. And here let me remark upon a mischievous
specimen of red-tapeism, which I saw often practiced to our det-
riment, even sometimes by Jackssu, who was least bound by
professional trammels. It was the employing of engineer offi-
cers, with their pocket compasses and pretty, red and blue cray-
on, hypothetical maps, as country guides; instead of the men
of the ^•icinage with local knowledge. Far better would it have
been for Jackson had he now inquired among Ashby's troopers
for the boy who had hunted foxes and rabbits through the
coppices around Lewiston. Him sluiuld he have set to guide
Taylor's brigade to the enemy's rear, with a ("aptain's com-
mission before him if he guided it to victory, and a pistol's
muzzle behind his left ear in case he played false.

The other blunder was, in appearance, even more trivial:
The footbridge, constructed iby mi)iinliglit, and designed to
pass four men abreast, proved at one point so unsteady that
only a single plank of it could be safely used. Thus, what was
designed to be a mnssive column was reduced from that point
onward to a straggling ''Indian file." Instead of passing over
the infantry in the early morning, we were still urging them
forward when the appointed ten o'clock had come and gone,
and the first attack on Shields, made with forces wholly in-
adequate, had met with n bloody repulse. Jackson, burning
with eagerness, had flown to the front as soon as the Stone-

168 STONEWALL JAOKSON.

wall brigade was passed over, leaving to me a stj-ict injunction
to remain at the bridge and expedite the crossing of the oth-
er troops. First the returning trains, mingled in almost inex-
tricable confusion with the marching column, was to be disen-
tangled, amidst much wrong-headedness of little Q- M.'s
swollen with a mite of brief authority. This effectually done;
the defect of the bridge disclosed itself. Can it not be speed-
ily remedied? No; not without a total arrest of the living
stream, which none dared to order. Then began I to suggest,
to advise, to urge, that the bridge be disused wholly and that
the men take to the water en masse (kindly June water). For
although it ^as Jackson's wont to enlighten none s\% to his
plans; yet even my inexperienced ear was taught by the can-
non thundering at Lewiston, that we should all have been, ere
thiSi there; not pothering ^<r«, in straggling Indian file. Well
did I know how Jackson's soul at that hour would avouch that
word of Napoleon : "Ask me far anything but time?'' But no:
"Generals had their orders: to march toy the bridge." "They
would usurp no discretion." Punctilious obedient men they!
"keeping the word of promise to the ears, but breaking it to
the sense." Well, in such fashion was the golden opportunity
lost; and Jackson, at mid-day, instead of returning victorious
to confront Fremont, must send word to his skirmish line, to
come away and bum the bridge behind them, while he rein-
forces his battle against Shields and crushes down his stubborn
(j'ea right gallant) resistance, with stern decision. Thus he
must pontent himself with one victory instead of two, and in
that one, chase his enemy away like a baffled wolf instead of
ensnaring him wholly and drawing his fangs.

Who can hear this story of victory thus organized and al-
most within the grasp — victory which should have been more
splendid than Marengo — so shorn of half its rays, without feel-
ing a pungent, burning, sympathetic disappointment? Did not
such a will as Jackson's then surge like a volcano at this de-
fault? No. There was no fury chafing against the miscarriage,
no discontent, no rebuke. Calm and contented, Jackson rode
back from the pursuit and devoted himself to the care of the
wounded and to prudent precautions for protection. '■^ God did
it." That was his philosophy. There is an omniscient Mind
which purposes, an ever present Providence which superin-

STONEWALL JAOKSON. 169

tends; so that when the event has finally disclosed his will, the
good man has found out what is best. He did not know it
before, and therefore he followed, with all his might, the best
lights of his own. imperfect reason; but now that G-od has
told him, by the issue, it is his part to study acquiescence —
Such was "Stonewall Jackson's way." ■

This, my friends, is a bright dream, but it is passed away.
Jackson is gone, and the cause is gone. All the victories which
he won are lost again. The penalty we pay for the pleasure of
the dream is the pain of thie awakening. I profess unto you
that one of the most consoling thoughts which remain to me
amidst the waking realties of the present, is this: that Jack-
son and other spirits like him are spared the defeat. I find
that many minds sympathize with me in the species of awful
curiosity to know what Jackson would have done at our final
surrender. It is a strange, a startling conjunction of thoughts:
Jackson, with his giant will, his unblenching faith, his heroic
devotion, face to face, after all, with the lost cause! What
would he have done? This question has been often asked me,
and my answer has always been: In no event could Jackson
have survived to see the cause lost. What, you say: would
he have been guilty of suicide? Would he, in the last-lost-
battle, have sacrificed himself upon his country's funeral pyre?
No. But I believe that as his clear eye saw the approaching
fiatastrophe, his faithful zeal would have spurred him to strive
so devotedly to avert it that he would either have overwrought
his powers or met his death in generous forgetfulness (not in
intentional desperation) on the foremost edge of the battle.
Forhim there was destined to be no subjugation! The God whom
he served so well was too gracious to his favorite son. Less
faithful servants, like us, may need this bitter scourge. He
was meeter for his reward.

Yes, there is solid consolation in the thought: Jackson is
dead. Does it seem sometimes as we stand beside the little
green mound at the Lexington graveyard, a right pitiful thing,
that here, beneath these few feet of turf, garnished with no
memorial but a faded wreath (faded like the cause he loved)
and the modest little stone placed there by the trembling hand
of a weeping woman (only hand generous and brave enough

170 STONEWALL JACKSON.

even to rear a stone to Jackson in all the broad land baptized
by his heart's blood), that there lies all this world contains of
that great glory. That this pure devotion, this matchless cour-
age, this towering genius are all clean gone forever out of this
earth; gone amidst the utter wreck of the beloved cause which
inspired them. Ah, but it was more pitiful to see a Lee bear-
ing his proud, sad head above that sad, surrounded by the
skeleton of that wreck, head stately as of old, yet bleached
prematurely by irremediable sorrow, with that eye revealing
its measureless depths of grief even beneath its patient smile.
More- pitiful to see the great heart break with an anguish which
it would not stoop to utter, because it must behold its coun-
try's death, and was forbidden of God to die before it. But
pitifulest of all is the sight of those former comrades of Jack-
san and Lee, who are willing to live and to be basely consoled
with the lures of the oppressor, and who thus survive not only
their country, but their own manhood. Yes, beside that sight
the grave of Jackson is luminous with joy.

I well remember the only time when 1 saw him admit a
Drognostic of final defeat. It was a Sabbath day of May, 1862,
a« bright and calm as that which ushered in the battle of Port
Republic. We were riding alone, slowly, to a religious service
in u distant camp, and communing of our cause, not then as
superior with inferior, but as friend with friend. I disclosed
to Jackson the grounds of the apprehensions which I always
harbored in secret, but which I made it my duty to conceal,
affer,the strife was once unavoidable, from every mortal save
him. He defended his more cheerful hopes. He urged the sur-
prising success of the Confederate government in organizing
armies and acquiring material of war in the face of an adver-
sary who would have been deemed overwhelming, and espec-
ially the goodness of Divine Providence in giving us, so far,
so many deliverances. I re-asserted my apprehensions with a
pertinacity which was, perhaps, uncivil. I pointed out that
the people were not rising as a whole to the height of the ter-
rible crisis. That while the minority (all honor to them) were
nobly sacrificing themselves in the breach, others were venal
and selfish, eager to depute to hireling substitutes the glor-
ious privilege of defending their own homes and rights, and
to make a sordid traffic out of the necessities of the glorious

STONEWALL JAOKSON. 171

maptjrs who were at the front dying for them. That it was
at least questionable whether such men were not predestined
slaves. That the government was manifestly unequal to the
arduous enterprise and entangled in the plodding precedents
of dull mediocrity, instead of rising to the exertion of lofty
genius and heroism. Witness, for instance, the deplorable mili-
tary policy which left our first critical victory without fruits;
a blunder which no government would be allowed by a right-
eous Providence to repeat often, with impunity; 'because it is
as truly a law of Grod's administration, as of his grace, which
is expressed in the fearful question: "How can ye escape who
neglect so great salvation?" That neither government nor
people seemed awake to the absolute necessity of striking
quickly in a revolutionary war like ours ; but they were settling
down to a regular, protracted contest, in which the machinery
of professional warfare would gradually, but surely, abolish
that superiority of the Southern citizen-soldier over the Yankee
mercenary, which the honor and courage of the former gave
him while both were undrilled; a routine- war in which we
should measure our limited resources against their unlimited
ones, instead of measuring patriotic gallantry against slug-
gishness. That the final issue of such a struggle must be the
exhaustion of our means of resistance by gradual attrition,
which would render all our victories unavailing. At length,
as I enlarged upon the points, Jackson turned himself upon his
saddle towards me and said, with a smile which yet had a
serious meaning in it: "Stop, Major Dabney; you will mate
me low-spirited!" He then rode in silence for some moments,
and said as though to himself: "I don't profess any romantic
indifference to life ; and certainly, in my own private relations,
I have as much that is dear to wish to live for, as any man.
Bat I do not desire to survive the independence of my country."
These words were uttered with a profound, pensive earnest-
ness, which effectually ended the debate.

Jackson prayed for the independence of his country; or,
if that might not be, he desired not to survive its overthrow.
God could not grant the former, for reasons to 'be seen anon,
wherefore he granted the latter. The man died at the right
time. He served the purpose of the Divine Wisdom in his
generation. He went upward and onward upon the flood-tide

172 STOiNEWALL JACKSON.

of his fame and greatness, until it reached its very acme; and
theuce he went up to his rest. After that came the ebb-tide,
the stranding, and the wreck. This, surely, is a singular mark
of Heaven's favor, lifting him almost to the rank of that ante-
diluvian hero "who walked with God, and he was not; for God
took him." When his fame and success were at their zenith,
never yet blighted by disaster; when the cause he loved better
than life was most hopeful; when he had just performed his
most brilliant exploit, and could leave his country all jubilant
with his praise, and glowing with gratitude for his deliver
ance ; before the coming woe had projected upon his spirit even
the fringe of that shadow which would have been to him cold-
er than death — that was the time for Jackson to be translated.
The other thing, which alone would have been better — to
lead his country on from triumph to triumph to final deliver-
ance — to hang up his sword in the sanctuary, and to sit down
a freeman amidst the people he had saved — that we would not
permit God to effect; and that we were not fit to have such
deliverance wrought for us, even by a Jackson, this God
would demonstrate before he took him away; for the true great
man is a gift from heaven, informed with a portion of its own
life and fire. Some small critics have argued that great men
are born in their times; that they are mere impersinations of
the moral forces common to their contemporaries. This, be
assured, may be true of that species of little great men, of
whom Shakespeare writes, that "they have greatness thrust on
them." The true hero is not made by his times, but makes
them, ' if indeed material of greatness be in them. They wait
for him, in sore need, perhaps, of his kindling touch, groping in
perilous darkness towards destruction, for want of his true
light: they produce him not. God sends him. There be three
missions for such a true great man among men. If "the in-
iquity of the Amorites is already full," the Great Power, the
wicked great man, Caesar or Napoleon, is sent among them to
seduce them to their ruin. If they be worthy of greatness, and
have in them any true substance to be kindled by the heroic
Are, the good hero, your Moses or Washington, shall be sent
unto them for deliverance. If it be not yet manifest to men
wh0ther the times be the one or the other, Amoritish, utterly
reprobate, and fit only for anarchy or slavery, or else with

8T0NBWALL JACKSON. 173

seed of nobleness in them, and ca^pable of true glory (though to
Him who oommissions the hero there be no mystery nor contin-
gency which is not manifest), then will he send one, or perad-
ventnre several, who shall be touchstones to that people, to
"try them so as by tire," whether there be worth in them or
no. And then shall this God-sent man show forth an exem-
plar to his people, which shall be unto them a test, whether
they, having eyes, see, or see not the true glory and right, and
whether they have hearts to understand and love it. And
then shall he bring nigh deliverances unto them, full of prom-
ise and hope, yet mutable, which are God's overtures saying
unto them: "Come now and let us reason together. If ye be
willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land; but if
ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword ; for
the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it." Will ye, or will ye
not? Thus was Jackson God's interrogatory to this people,
saying to them: "Will ye be like him, and be saved? Lo,
there! What would a nation of Jacksons be? That may ye
be! How righteousness exalteth a people! Shall this judg-
ment and righteousness 'be the stability of thy times, O Con-
federate, and strength of thy salvation?" " And these mighty
deliverances at Manassas, Winchester, Port Republic, Chick-
ahominy, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, were they not mani-
fest overtures to us to have the God of JacksDn and Lee for
our God, and be saved? "Here is the path; walk ye in it."

And what said our people? Many honestly answered,
"Yea, Lord, we will"; of whom the larger part walked whither
Jackson did, and now lie with him in glory. But another part
answered, "Nay," and they live, on such terms as we see, even
such as they elected. To them, also, it was plain that Jack-
son's truth and justice and devotion to duty were the things
that made him great and unconquerable. Even the wicked
avouched this. Therefore a nation of such like men must
needs be unconquerable and free. But they would not be free
on such terms. Nay; they preferred rather to walk after tbeir
own vanities. Verily they have their reward ! Let the contrast
appear in two points. Jackson writes thus to his wife :

"You had better not sell your coupons from the" (Confed-
erate) "bonds, as I understand they are paid in gold; but let
the Confederacy keep the gold. Citizens should not receive a
tent of gold from the government when it is so scarce."

l'J'4 STONEWALL JACKSON.

Set over against this the spectacle ^f almost the many, ex-
cept the soldiers, gone mad at the enhancement of prices with
speculation and extortion, greedy to rake together paper
money, mere rags and trash, while such as Jackson were pour-
ing out money and blood in the death grapple for them. Take
arother: He writes to his wife, Christmas, 1862, in answer to
the inquiry whether he could not visit her, and see the child
upon which he had never looked, while the army was in winter-
quarters:

"IL appears to me that it is better for me to remain with
my command so long as the war continues, if our ever-gracious
Heavenly Father permits. The army suffers immensely by
absentees. If all our troops, oflBcers and men, were at their
posts, we might, through God's blessing, expect a more speedy
termination of the war. The temporal affairs of some are so de-
ranged as to make a strong plea for their returning home for
a short time ; but our Grod has greatly blessed me and mine dur-
ing my absen6e; and whilst it would be a great comfort to see
you, and my darling little daughter, and others in whom I take
special interest, yet duty appears to require me to remain with
iny command. It is most important that those at headquarters
set an example by remaining at the post of duty."

Look now from this picture of steadfastness in duty to the
multitudes of absentees and of stalwart young men shirking the
army by every slippery expedient. So these answered back to
God's overture: "Mammon is dearer than manhood, and in-
glorious ease than liberty." The disclosure was now made that
this people oould not righteously be free, was not fit for it, and
that Grod was just. Jackson could now go home to his rest.
He in the haven, the ebb-tide might begin; he safely housed, the
storm of adversity might burst.

The thing to be most painfully pondered then, by this peo-
ple, is: Whether the fate of Jackson, and such like, is not
proof that we have been weighed in the balances and found
wanting? How readeth the handwriting on the wall? Not
hopefully, in verity of truth, if Truth, which heroes worship,
be indeed eternal, and be destined to assert herself ever. Jack-
son, alas, lies low, under the little hillock in Lexington grave-
yard, and Lee frets out his great heart-strings at this world-
wide vision of falsehood and vile lucre, cruel as sordid, trium-

STONEWALL JACKSON. 175

phant, unwhipped of justice; while the men who ride prosper-
ously are they who sell themselves to work iniquity, and who
say "Evil, be thou my good." Yea, these are the men whom
the people delighteth to honor; to whom the churches and min-
isters of God in this land bow down, ppoclaiming : "Verily suc-
cess is divine; and Might it maketh right; and the Power of
this world, it shall be God unto us." And while the grave of
heroic Truth and virtue has no other memento than the humble
stone placed there by a feeble woman's hand, pompous monu-
ments of successful wrong affront the skies with their altitude,
"calling evil good and gond evil, and putting darkness for light
and light for darkness." We fear that when Truth shall re-as-
sert herself it will go ill with this generation.

THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL.

Dr. L. R. Dickinson, Editor Planter and Farmer. — Dear
Sir: I have read the essays of "Civis" in your December, Jan-
uary and February num'bers with profound interest, and with
general approbation. Concurring fully with him in the oppo-
sition to the whole theory of primary education by the State,
I also feel the force of his views concerning the negro and the
common school. For some years I have had strong convic-
tions of the falsehood and deadly tendencies of the the Yankee
theory of pwpular State education; and I confess that the in-
fluence which prevented my lifting up my voice against it was,
simply, the belief that so puny a voice could effect nothing
against the prevalent "craze" which has infected the country
on this subject. You may conceive, therefore, the satisfaction
with which I saw "Civis" take up the cause of truth in the col-
umns of the Religious Herald, and subsequently in the Planter
and Parmer, and my admiration for his moral courage, elo-
quence and invincible logic. With such champions, the cause
of truth is not so hopeless as I feared. With equal satisfaction
I have seen the Rev. Dr. John Miller, long an honored citizen
of Virginia, and a gallant soldier in her army, arguing the same
truth in the Tribune, with even more than his wonted terse-
ness, boldness and condensed logic. There is another sign that
the cause of truth is not wholly lost : this is the new zeal of the
self-constituted protectors of this Yankee heresy in Virginia,
in circulating arguments and pleas for their error. These docu-
ments have had no other effect on my mind than to awaken the
wish that, if we must, perforce, have this false system imposed
on us by our conquerors, any executive agency, created to ad-
minister the ill-starred plan, might at least have the modesty to
stick to its appointed business, and not waste the money of the
people in the attempt to manufacture among the people an er-
roneous public opinion. It is enough to be taxed heavily,
against my judgment, for a quixotic project, which can never

176

THK NK6R0 AND THE COMMON SCttOOL. 177

do me or any one else any good. I am unjustly forced to sur-
render my money ; but I beg leave to preserve the privilege of
doing my own thinking. At least, I do not propose docilely to
receive my opinions otf it from those, who, in advocating the
system, are also advocating their own official emoluments.

While speaking of the general subject, I am tempted to
notice a recent argument which is flaunted before us: this is, the
rapidly increasing popularity, which, it is claimed, the plan is
winning at the South. The reply is, that if this popularity is
growing, it exactly confirms the argumeilt of "Civis," that the
system is agrarian, corrupting, subsidizing the people and de-
bauching their independence. Imperial donatives to the Boman
populace 'became very popular; true, but they poisoned the last
good element of Boman character, and helped to complete the
putrescence of the empire. I fear it is only too true, that this
cunning cheat of Yankee state-craft it alluring the poor, har-
assed Southern parent; and that he is yielding to the bait,
which promises deceitfully to relieve him of his parental re-
sponsibility. A bribe, alas, may become easily popular in de-
cadent times.

But, you asked for my opinion of this fearful question of
the negro in our common schools. It is not necessary for me
to repeat the points so strongly put hy^ Civis." To one of them
only, I would add my voice: the unrighteousness of expending
vast sums, wrung by a grinding taxation from our oppressed
people, upon a pretended education of freed slaves; when the
State can neither pay its debts, nor attend to its own legitinfete
interests. Law and common honesty iboth endorse the maxim:
"A man must be just before he is generous." The action of the
State, in wasting this money thus, which is due to her creditors,
is as inexcusable as it is fantastical I do know that not a few
of our white brethren, before the war, independent and intelli-
gent, are now prevented from educating their own children, be-
cause they are compelled to keep them in the corn-field, labor-
ing from year's end to year's end, to raise these taxes to give a
pretended education to the brats of the black paupers, who are
loafing around their plantations-, stealing a part of the scanty
crops and stock their poor, struggling boys are able to raise.
Not seldom has this pitiful sight made my blood boil with in-
dignation, and then made my heart bleed with the thought:

178 THB NEGKO AND THK COMMON SCHOOL.

"How mournfullj complete is that subjugation, which haa made
men, who were once Virginians, snbmit tamely to this burning
wrong?" "The offense is rank, and smells to Heaven." Thank
Q«d, that I have only to pay, and have nothing to do with the
imposition, collection and disbursement of this shameful exac-
tion.

The argument by which they endeavor to reconcile us to
it is always this: "Negpo suffrage is a fixed fact; Virginians
cannot help it; and if the negro is to share in governing the
State, our interest is to qualify him for doing so, by educating
Mm." To this argument many well-meaning men reluctantly
yield. My first remark upon it is: ^hat I am not at all clear,
that candor, or truth, or self-respect will allow any Virginian
thus to accept the impossible onus, which conquest seeks to
impose on ns. Radicalism thrus:ts upon us this fatal innova-
tion of negro suffrage; and then requires of us a promise that
we will undertake to mafec it work safely and beneficently. I
beg leave to demur from making any such promise. I do not
mean to divide with the conqueror the onus of his ruthless and
murderous crime against liberty and civilization. He has com-
mitted it; let him bear its responsibility. If it is not undone, it
will destroy both American liberty and civilization. If I could
prevent that result, I would; and if I believed that I conld, I
would promise to try. But, knowing that I cannot prevent that
result, and that no human power can, unless the crime be re-
tracted, I do not mean to make a deceitful promise, or to divide
the damning responsibility of the crime with its perpetrators.
If I saw a ruthless quack proposing to divide a man's carotid
artery, in a mad surgical experiment, and he should ask me to
promise to tie it up, so as to remedy the murder he was com-
mitting, I should tell him that, however anxious to save the life
of his victim, I was not able to do it by tying up a carotid ar-
tery, and could not promise. If he persevered in murdering the
man, he must bear the guilt alone.

For, second: the pretended education which Virginia is
now giving, at so heavy a cost, to the negroes, is, as a remedy
for negro suffrage, utterly deceptive, farcical and dishonest.
The tenor of the argument concedes, what every man, not a
fool, knows to be true: that the negroes, as a body, are now
glaringly unfit for the privilege of voting. What makes them

THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 179

unfit? Such things as these: The inexorable barrier of alien
race, color, and natural character, between them and that other
race which constitutes the bulk of Americans: a dense ignor-
ance of the rights and duties of citizenship : an almost universal
lack of that share in the property of the country, which alone
can give responsibility, patriotic interest and independence to
the voter: a general moral grade so deplorably low as to per-
mit their being driven or bought like a herd of sheep by the
demagogue: a parasitical servility and dependency of nature,
which characterizes the race everywhere, and in all ages: an al-
most total lack of real persevering aspirations: and last, an
obstinate set of false traditions, which bind him as a mere serf
to a party, which is the bom enemy of every righteous interest
of our State. Let the reader look at that list of ailments. Not
an item can be disputed. Now, our political quacks propose to
cure them, and that in such time as will save the Commonwealth
before the infection becomes mortal. And how? By such an
infusion of (not education, but) a modicum of the arts of read-
ing, writing, and cyphering; which are at best uncertain means,
only, for educating; and that, such a modicum as the kind of
teachers and schools Virginia can now get, will infuse through
the wool of such heads. Does any sane man really believe this
remedy will do that vast work? Nay, verily, "Leviathan is not
so tamed." Or, to return to the former trope, we may use the
exclamation of John Randolph against a weak book, which was
proposed to him, as an antidote for the malignant ability^ of
Bolingbroke's infidelity. "Venice treacle, and syrup, against
Arsenic!" Whether this remedy will save us, may be settled
by an argument of fact, unanswerable to every patriotic Vir-
ginian. The Yankees have had this "nostrum" of free school
education, in full force, for two generations. Has it reared up
among them, out of white people, a popular mass fit to enjoy
universal suffrage? Did not this very system rear us that very
generation, which, in its blind ignorance and brutal passion, has
recently wrecked the institutions of America; has filled our
country with destitution, woe and murder; and, with a stupid
blindness, only equalled by its wickedness, has stripped its own
Commonwealths, in order to wreak its mad spite on ours, of
the whole safeguards for their own freedom and peace? These
art the Jruits of thie Yankee system of State primary educa-

180 THE XEOBO AND THE COMMON SOHOOL.

tion, as working on a white race. Will it work better on a
black race? I have not yet learned enough of that type of
"intelligence" which this system seems to foster, to repudiate
my Saviour's infallible maxim, "the tree is known by its fruits."
The Yankee has bragged w much of his "intelligence," of his
floods of books and oceans of newspapers, that some Southern
people seem "dazed" by the clamor. Well ; there may be "f us-
siness," there may be plenty of self-conceit, and flippancy; but
I stand simply and firmly iby this impregnable fact: This sys-
tem has not given the Yankee true wisdom enough to prevent
his destroying the country and himself. What mere self-delu-
sion is it, to dream that it will give this quality to the negro?

But, third: There are causes peculiar to the negro and the
South, which leave us no hope that this so-called system of free
schools will produce even as much fruit as in New Etigland or
New York. One is the fact which "Civis" has so boldly stated :
The black race is an alien one on our soil; and nothing except
his amalgamation with ours, or his subordination to ours, can
prevent the rise of that instinctive antipathy of race, which,
history shows, always arises between opposite races in prox-
imity. Another cause is the natural indolence of the negro
character, which finds precisely its desired pretext, in this pre-
tended work of going to school. Still another is the universal
disposition of the young negro to construe his "liberty" as
meaning precisely, privilege of idleness. It was easy to see
that the free school must needs produce the very result which
it is Bsually producing, under such exceptional circumstances;
not education, but discontent with, and unfitness for, the free
negro's inevitable sphere and destiny — if he is to have any good
destiny — manual labor. With such teachers, such parents as
the negro parents, and such material, it was hopeless to expect
any really beneficial knowledge of the literary arta to be dif-
fused among this great mass of black children. The only thing
the most of them really learn is a fatal confirmation in the no-
tion that "freedom" means living without work, and a great
enhancement of the determination to grasp that privilege. The
one commanding and imperative necessity of the young negro
at the end of the war, in the eyes of any saber philanthropist,
was this: that he should be promptly made to learn some way
to earn an honest living. The interest which the Common-

THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 181

wealth had in his quickly learning this vital lesson, was peril-
ously urgent, as I shall show. Instead, then, of giving any ne-
gro over five years old a pretext of any sort for evading his
righteous and beneficent lot of manual labor, we should have
bent eveiy energy of statesmanship and government to the task
of somehow keeping the grown negroes at their work, and mak-
ing sure that the young ones were taught to work. To this end
nearly all the practical talent and energy should have been
bent. The police administration ahould have been so omnipo-
tent and energetic as aibsolutely to cut o£E the possibility of a
negro family's subsisting by plunder— vagrancy should have
been rendered impossible by S'tringent laws, apprenticing the
loafer to an industrious citizen. The tolerance of idleness in
children approaching adult age, by their parents, should have
been made a misdemeanor, justifying the intervention of the
magistrate. Such a system of stimuli, if made effective, must
have been harsher than domestic slavery. I reply, yes : but in
imposing it, we should be but imitating uur conquerors, who
ordained that the wise, kindly, benevolent, yet efficient system
of the South should give place to their more pretentious but
oppressive system. We are fully justified by the rights of self-
preservation, to imitate their severity. Here is a parable which
expresses accurately the folly Virginia has committed. She
saw a neighbor of her's, named, we will say. Smith, who was
very rich, and who also had a large family of healthy children.
Smith is using a part of his abundance, in sending all of his
children to school. Now Virginia is not rich, but desperaftly
poor; and it will be "touch and go" if some of her children do
aot actually starve before the year is out. Moreover, Virginia's
children are in so feverish, unhealthy a state, that confinement
with books is likely to have no effect, except brain-fever. But
the old lady sees Smith's gang passing her door to school every
day, with envious eyes. She feels .that somehow "book-lamin"
is a social distinction. She hears Smith's children "chaffing"
hers about their inferiority of privilege, and she can stand it no
longer. So she completes her own bankruptcy to buy an outfit
of "store clothes," and school-books, and sends all her children.
Luckless urchins! what they needed was wholesome food and
medicine, not books and confinement. The result of this blind
disregard of times and differences, and abilities, is, that about

182 THE NEOBO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL.

the time famine and the sheriff are both knocking at the old

lady's door, her children are sent back to her, in raging delirium

fram brain fever, either helpless, or rending each other in their

phrensy.

question fairly in the face? It makes me shudder — and the

Does any one demur, that this picture is extravagant?
Then, he has not begun to see the fearful peril of our situation.
Indeed, I feel sure that bad as is the present state of Virginia
(in consequence of the abolition measure forced upon us) far
the worst is yet to come. What are we to do with this young
generation of negroes now growing up? Have men looked that
free school is one of the most tragical features in the coming
drama. Let these facts be considered. This coming generation
will be a numerous one. Men, like "Civis," are evidently nurs-
ing the secret hope that it will not ; and to my mind it is one o'
the most painful evidences of the atrocity of the wrong per-
petrated on Virginia by her conquerors, that good, patriotic,
philanthropic. Christian men here see the evil fruits of that
crime looming up so fearfully, as actually to find a grain of pri-
vate consolation in the hope! that a race of human beings
among us are advancing to the miseries of extermination. I do
not find fault with the hope; it is natural — I shall naturally and
justifiably hope that my wilful destroyer may perish before he
murders me — I condemn the oppression which has left good and
wise men no solace except in that hope. They scan the 'bills of
mortality in Southern cities with a sigh of relief. Doubtless
city-life is a devouring gulf for the poor freedman, but Virginia
is a rural State; and in the country, the lazy freedman multi-
plies, unstinted by his poverty. The climate is genial, the win-
ter is short, the persimmons and blackberries span the larger
part of the year; the "old hares" are prolific; the old freedmen,
once slaves, still do about half work, and produce some pro-
visions; and above all, the process of eating up the white peo-
ple by petty pilferings is still far from completed. So, between
these various resources, country negroes manage to sustain
these low conditions of existence, which enable so low a race
to multiply ; and they multiply on, as yet, very much as in old
times. This perilous incoming generation will be a numerous
one.

The next fact is, thatM« ne^ro is a ereatwe o* habit. Those

THK NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 183

whose characters were formed in slavery still carry with them
two habits gained there; one, that of work (though gradually re-
laxing); the other, that of loyalty and affectionate respect for
"their white folks." _The new generation cherishes neither. I
know of only one or two, of either sex, who are engaged in any
self-supporting labor — they live on their parents, or on pilfer-
ing. Does one see any of them apprenticed to any useful trade,
or in the regular employment of any business man? I have
with me the testimony of the planters; they tell me that, in
hiring hands, they always seek middle-aged ones, who were
trained in slavery; the younger are not worth hiring, if they
ever offer. I have with me the testimony of the middle-aged
freedmen, the fathers and mothers themselves. Their complaint
is, that the "young ones have no idea of work — they do not
know what real work is — what is to become of them, the Lord
only knows." All who know the negro character are aware
also of that infirmity of purpose which, almost universally ren-
ders them inefficient parents. They are either too weak or in-
dulgent, or they are brutally and capriciously severe. Hence,
the usual law of negro families is, a low state of parental and
filial qualities, dissatisfied parents, and insubordinate children
— it was always so upon the plantations, except as the master
or overseer guided and reinforced the father's rule; it is flag-
rantly so now. The ugliest feature of this coming day is, that
the young negroes are evidently growing up with a restive,
surly, insolent spirit towards the whites, in place of that close
family affection, feudal loyalty, and humble pride in their su-
periors, which once united masters and servants. How can it
be otherwise? The family tie is gone forever — the "carpet bag-
ger" has played his accursed game upon the negro's passions.
Suffrage and the free school awaken in the young negro foolish
and impossible aspirations, which are fated to disappointment,
and whose disappointment he will assuredly lay to the door of
his white rivals, lately his kindly protectors. One needs only
to walk by the way, to see this change of temper. The ex-
slave greets his former "white folks" with a smile of genuine
pleasure, and with all the deference of old times. But his son
and daughter pass without speech, or with a surly nod, and as-
sert their independence by shouldering white children from the
sidewalk. What, meantime, is the temper to which these white

184 THE NBGEO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL.

young people are growing up?, They alsD are strangeris to the
family feeling ; they know nothing of the kindly responsibility
and patronage begotten by the former dependence of the ser-
vants; to them these Insolent young blacks are simply stran-
gers and aliens, repulsive and abhorred. The sons of the he-
FDes who fell at Manassas and Gettysburg are not likely to im-
bibe from widowed mothers traditions which will make them
very tolerant of "negro impudence."

The State of New Jersey has emancipated her slaves re-
cently enough, for men now living to testify to the effects of the
measure. The account that I have uniformly heard from her
citizens is this: That the negraes reared in slavery continued
to be useful, but that when this generation had passed away,
business men ceased, as a general rule, to empby negroes in
any permanent contract of labor. They Were found tOD fickle,
uncertain and indolent. Ask a New Jersey farmer to employ a
negro for his permanent farm help, and he would answer with
a smile at your absurdity. After a time negroes almost ceased
t9 be seen in rural districts ; they drifted into taverns, barbers'
shops and other places where "jobs" could be picked up. What
right have we to flatter ourselves with a different result in Vir-
ginia.

Now an industrious community can endure a certain per-
centage of idlers, but if it be increased too much, they poison
the community. The body politic is, in this, like the natural
body, a certain amount of pDison in its circulation can be en-
dui^d, and eliminated by the emunctory organs, but if the poi-
son is in larger quantity, the man dies. When the generation
of freed-negroes, which works feebly, has passed away, can the
white people of Southside Virginia endure the pilfering of a
body of negrDes more numerous than themselves, who will work
not at all? And when the white people are at last driven to
the end of all patience by intolerable annoyances, and the blacks
are determined to live and not to WDrk, collision cannot but en-
sue. What shall we do with that generation of negroes "edu-
cated" to be above work? I see no other prospect, humanly
speaking, except the beginning of a war of races, which will
bring back the ppovDst marshal, and the government of the
bayonet, and will, indeed, make us eager to welcome them.

Put even if this danger is evaded, I object to this whole

THE NKGBO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 185

scheme of State education for negroes, because, if successful,
it can only result in wrong. In every civilized country, there
must be a laboring class. The idea that this universal "educa-
tion," so-called, is to elevate that laboring class into a reading
body, and still leave them laborers, is a vain vision. The peo-
ple who are addicted to manual labor are never going to be
students, as a body. It is not so in boasted Prussia, nor in
boasting New England. Laborers, if taught the arts of letters
in their youth, disuse them in their toiling manhood. The brain
which is taxed to supply the nervous energy for a day of man-
ual labor, will have none left for literary pursuits. If our civ-
ilization is to continue, there must be, at the bottom of the so-
cial fabric, a class who must work and aot read. Now, grant
that that the free school does all that its wildest boasts can
claim; that it elevates the negroes out of this grade. Then thcr
only result will be, that white people must descend into it, and
occupy it. Where then is the gain? I, for one, say plainly,
that I belong to the white race, and that if I must choose be-
tween the two results, my philanthropy leads me to desire the
prosperity of my own peDple, in preference to that of an alien
race. I do not see any humanity in taking the negro out of the
place for which nature has fitted him, at the cost of thrusting
my own kindred down into it. No amelioration whatever is
effected in the CDuntry taken as a whole; but an unnatural
crime is committed to gratify a quixotic and unthinking
ofotcnet.

Again: Let us grant that free schools effect all that is
claimed for the elevation of the negro; that he is actually fitted
for all the dignities of the commonwealth, and for social equal-
ity. Then, will he not demand it? Of CDurse. Here then, is
my concluding </«/«»i»»o. If these negro schools are to fail, they
should be abolished without further waste. If they are to suc-
ceed, they only prepare the way for that abhorred fate, amal-
gamation. If the State School Board are working for any-
thing, they are working for this; here is the goal of their plans.
The most solemn and urgent duty now incumbent on the rulers
of Virginia, is to devise measures to prevent the gradual but
sure approach of this final disaster. The satanic artificers of
our subjugation well knew the work which they designed to
perpetrate: it is so to mingle that blood which flowed in the

186 THE NBGBO AND TUB COMMON SOHOOi.

veins of our Washingtons, Lees, and Jacksons, and which con-
secrated the battle ilelds of the Confederacy, with this sordid,
alien taint, that the bastard stream shall never again throb
with independence enough to make a tyrant tremble. These
men were taught by the instincts of their envy and malignity,
but too infallibly, how the accursed work was to be done. They
knew that political equality would prepare they way for social
equality, and that, again for amalgamation. It is only our pride
which hides the danger from our eyes. A friend from Virginia
was conversing, in London, with an old English navy surgeon,
who was intimately acquainted with the British West-India Is-
lands. He assured the Virginian that the "reconstruction acts"
tended directly to amalgamation, and would surely result in it
if persevered in. "Never," exclaimed my Virginia friend, "In
our case, our people's pride of race will effectually protect them
from that last infamy." "Had ever any people," replied the ex-
sui-geonj "more pride of race than the English? Yet they are
amalgamating in Jamaica. We have the teachings of forty
years' experience in this matter; when your emancipation has
become, like ours, forty years old, you will see." The Virginian
was silenced. Even now, after ten years of the misery and
shame of subjugation, one has only to open his eyes to see the
crumbling away of the social barriers between the two races.
The nearest and heaviest share of this curse of mixed blood
will, of course, fall upon the conquered States themselves; but
the revengeful mind will have the grim satisfaction of seeing
the Conquering States reap their sure and fearful retribution
from the same cause. Eleven populDus States, tainted with this
poison of hybrid and corrupted blood, will be enough to com-
plete the destruction of the white States to which they will be
chained. The Yankee empire will then find itself, like a strong
man with a cankerous limb, perishing by inches, in chronic and
hideDus agonies. The member which spreads its poison through
the whole body can. neither be healed nor amputated, all will
putrify together.

Is there any remedy? This is the question which will be
urged, and those who think with me are listened to with dis-
favor, chiefly because people do not like to be reminded of a
shameful and miserable future, which they suppose to be un-
avoidable; they prefer to shut their eyes and enjoy the rem-

THE NKGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 187

nants of pleasures which are left them, without disturbance.
We shall be asked: Why speak of these things, unless there can
be shown a remedy? There might be a remedy, if the people
and their leaders were single-minded and honest in their action
as citizens. The key-note of that remedy is in "impartial suff-
rage." In endeavoring to remedy the dangers of the common-
wealth, we must remember that we are a conquered people, and
have to obey our masters. Otherwise our straight road back
to safety would be at once to repeal negro-suffrage. But our
masters will not hear of that. What is ctflled "impartial suff-
rage" is, however, permitted by their new Constitution. We
should at once avail ourselves of that permission, and without
attempting any discrimination on grounds of "race, color, or
previous condition of bondage," establish qualifications both
of property and intelligence for the privilege of voting. This
would exclude the great multitude of negroes, and also a great
many white men. And this last would of itself be no little gain,
for many more white men have the privilege than use it for
the good of the State. Again, the very misfortunes of the time
give us this advantage now, for drawing back from the ultra-
radicalism of our previous legislation: that the mass of white
men are now so impressed with the dishonor and mischiefs of
negro suffrage, the majority of those white voters having no
property, would, even joyfully, surrender their privilege, tar-
nished and worthless as it is, if thereby the negro could be ex-
cluded. This constitutes our opportunity. To this saving reform
there is just one real obstacle, and that is, tht timid self-inter-
est of the offiee-seekihg class. I take it for granted that every
sensible man in Virginia thinks in his heart that negro suffrage
is a deplorable mistake. But many wish to be elected or ap-
pointed to ofSce. These begin to calculate, under the prompt-
ings of timid selfishness : "While I should be very glad to see
this wholesome reform, it will not be prudent for me to ad-
vocate it; because, should a movement for it, advocated by me,
perchance fail, then all the classes whom that movement pro-
posed to disfranchise of this useless and hurtful privilege, will
be offended with me. So, when self-love desires to be elected
to some place of emolument, they will remember me and vote
against me. Hence, I canbot move in that reform, however
desirable." TTiis isthe real difficulty, and the only real diflSculty,

1 88 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL.

in the way of this blessed step towards salvation. If all the
men who now cherish aspirations for ofBce, could only be made
to act disinterestedly — to forget self, to resolve to do the right
and wise thing for the Commonwealth, whether they were ever
voted for again or not, the w'hole thing would be easy. There are
a plenty of intelligent young men in Virginia, now without
property, who would joyfully join the freeholders in voting to
disfranchise themselves for this great end, to make a command-
ing majority. So that the question, whether the State can be
saved from this perdition, turns practically on this other ques-
tion (as indeed the fate of Commonwealth^ always practically
does), whether her people can for once act with a real honest
disinterestedness. If the people and their leaders are capable
of that, they can save themselves; if not capable, nothing can
save them. And perhaps the verdict of posterity will be, that
they were unworthy of being saved. It will be well for all to
look this view of the matter fully in the face. Especially is it
necessary for the farmers to see precisely where the deliverance
and the obstacle to it lie.

The other branch of our remedy should be to reform our
school system, both for blacks and whites, back towards the
system of our fathers in Virginia, just as fast as possible. I
mean the system which prevailed in Virginia up to 1860. I
know that all the self-constituted, ipretended advocates of free
education disparage that system as miserably partial and in-
efScient. But our fathers knew what they were about, much
better than was supposed. "Young people think old folks are
fools, but old people know that young ones are." Did that old
system produce perfect results? No. No system in imperfect
human hands ever produces perfect results. Did it teach every
adult in the State to read and write? No. But neither will
the new one. That is, the new system will no more be able to
overcome the inexorable law, that the mass of those addicted
to manual labor will not and cannot addict themselves to the
literary arts, than our fathers were. And after all the fuss and
boast, and iniquitous expense, "the upshot" will be that there
will still be just as many adults in the State, who practically
will not read, and who will forget how, as before. And there
will be far fewer to use their art of reading to any good pur-
pose. How often will men stubbornly forget that the art of

THE NKGRO AND THE COMMON SCfiOOl. 189

reading is not education, but only a very uncertain means of

education. With that class for which the free school especially
provides, it is usually a worthless means. The feasible and use-
ful education for that class is the development of faculties
which takes place in learning how to make an honest living.
My prediction is already verified in Massachusetts, the very
home of the State-school humbug. The annual reports of their

own school superintendents confess it. A large part of the rural
laboring population, still do not read, have forgotten how to
read, do not care to know, and care not' a stiver whether their
children know. (Here, by the way, is the cause of this new

furor for "compulsory education"). Tried by this sober and
truthful standard, I assert that the comiparative fruits of our old
system fully justified its excellence. Again I demand that the
"tree shall be known by its fruits." That was the system which
reared the Virginians of 1861 : that glorious, enlightened gen-
eration of men, which comprehended so cleariy the vital im-
portance of the great doctrine of State sovereignty, while the
Yankee hordes, reared up under this bejpraised system of free
schools, ignorantly trampled onit with beastly stupidity and vio-
lence: that glorious generation which contended for the right so
firmly, so temperately, as to win the admiration of the world :
that generation which, when moderation availed no longer,
formed the heroic armies which followed Jackson and Lee to
the last. Yes, it was the old Virginia system that reared the
yeomanry which filled those immortal ranks with such a body
of privates — so virtuous, so enduring, so brave, so intelligent,
as no other generals ever commanded. Yes, "let the tree be
known toy its fruits." The tree tliat bore "the rank and file" of
the Stonewall brigade was good enough for me. It may be
pruned, it may be watered and tilled, and thus it may be im-
proved. Our true wisdom will be to plant it again.

This old system evinced its wisdom by avoiding the pagan.
Spartan theory, which makes the State the parent. It left the
parent supreme in his Gtod-given sphere, as the responsible
party for providing and directing the education of his own off-
spring. This old plan, instead of usurping, encouraged and as-
sisted, where assistance was needed. It was wise again, in that
it avoided creating salaried offices to eat up the people's money,
and yet do no actual teaching. It was supremely wise, in that

190 THE ITBORO AND THE OOitJtOTf 80B00L.

it cut the Qorddan (knot, "Religion in the State school," which
now baflSes British and Yankee wit. It set that insuperable
difBculty clear on one side, by leaving the school as the creature
of the parents, and not of the State. It was wise in its exceed-
ing ecenomy, a trait so essential to the State now.

I would have our rulers, then, avail themselves of another
circumstance growing out of our calamities, to disarm the over-
weening zeal of the State school men. We can truthfully say
to them : "Your system, whether best or not, is simply imprac-
ticable lor Virginia. You see that she has stretched taxation to
the verge of confiscation; and yet her debt cannot be paid and
that costly system carried on." Let two separate "Literary
funds," then, be created, one for whites and one for blacks, each
separate, and each replenished from the taxation of its own
class. Let "each tub stand upon its own bottom." Instead of
the State undertaking to be a universal creator and sustainer of
schools, let it invite parents to create, sustain, and govern their
own schools under the assistance and guidance of an inexpen-
sive and (mainly) unsalaried Board, and then render such help
to those parents who are unable to help themselves, as the very
limited school tax will permit. And let the existence of some
aspiration in parents or children be the uniform condition of the
aid; for without this condition it is infallibly thrown away.
"One man may take a horse to water, but a hundred can't make
him drink." B. L. DABIfEY.

Union Theological Seminary, Va., Feb. 21, 1876.

THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM IMPOSED

UPON VIRGINIA BY THE UNDERWOOD

CONSTITUTION.

DR. DAiBNEY,

He Has A Pew Words to Say in Reply to Dr. Ruffner.

Repelling the Charge of Inconsistency — An Advocate of Uni-
versal Education, Provided it is True Education — The Old
Virginia Plan — School Houses and Jails — Educated Crim-
inals — A Few Comparative Figures — Drenching and Drink-
ing — Home Education.

I.
Hampden Sidney, Va., April 18, 1876.
To W. H. Ruffner, Esq., Superintendent of State Schools:

Dear Sir: — You have undesignedly done the cause of truth a
service by so assailing the Virginia doctrines as advanced by
me in the Southern Planter as to awaken the public curiosity
to their defence. That defence I propose to continue in a brief
reply to you toy facts and arguments alone. I do not propose
to follow you into any personalities. I am perfectly aware tliat
my person is, to the people of Virginia, too unimjwrtant for
them to feel interested in a squabble over its consistency or
credit. I presume that their feeling for your private person al-
so is not very different. For an important principle they may
care. While my humble sphere as a minister and teacher may
render the great public indifferent to me personally, my em-
ployers and neighbors, who know me, need no defence of my
personal credit from any disparagement from what quarter so-
ever. They know that my position is thoroughly consistent
and independent; that in my own education I never received
from Church or State one dollar of eleemosynary aid; and that
I have neither neglected nor abused any oflBcial trust commit-
ted to me.

191

192 THE STATE tREE SCHOOL STSTKM.

You tliink it incousistent in me to disapprove auy free
school because, you say, I am a professor in a "free school" — a
theological seminary. This seminary is indeed truly "a free
school." "I thank the Jew for that word." Founded and sus-
tained by the spontaneous, unforced gifts of good men, it gives
free tuition in divinity tD young men nf all denominations —
even the most opposed to the donors — seeking the ministry. It
is honestly and really a "free school"— supported by free gifts,
attended :by free, voluntary pupils. No penny of the salary of
its teachers is exacted by the tax-gatherer from unwilling hands
to pay fDr a project or an inculcation which they disapprove.
Your "free schools," like not a few of the other pretensions of
Radicalism, are ia fact exactly opposite to the name falsely as-
sumed. The great bulk of those who pay the money for them
do It, not "freely," but by comipulsion. They are virtually
thrust down our throats by the bayonet. And the exemplars
you most boast and imitate not only make the payment compul-
sory, but the attendance also, as your consistency will doubtless
cause you to do in Virginia also in a few years. The only free-
dom of your system is your freedom to compel other people's
money.

Your attacks on me breathe a great glorying in the
strength of your party. Their tone seems to cry: "Oh, vain
man; seest thou not that thou resistest the inevitable? With
us are all Kaisers, and all demagogues, and all their minions,
and all tax-gatherers, and all tax-consumers. Who art thou
against so many?" Well, perhaps, nobody. But it is precise-
ly in this that every prudent, reflecting Virginian sees the con-
clusive argument against your plan. Our true statesmen al-
ways taught us that government should not be allowed to go
into any project aside from its direct, legitimate ends, especially
if that project would subsidize many persons and create for
them a motive of personal advantage to uphold it. Because
whenever that project might be wrested to mischief, these in-
terested motives might prevent a wholesome and necessary
repeal. Such is precisely the case with your project. It has be-
come mischievous and tyrannical, in that it forces on us the use-
less, impracticable, and dishonest attempt to teach literary arts
to all negroes, when the State is unable to pay its debts and
provide for its welfare, and has just been despoiled of its pos-

THE STAtB FREE SClIOOt SYSTEM. 19ii

sessions by violence. And just so soon as a feeble voice is
raised against this wrong, you flaunt before us this fact, that
the vicious system has corrupted and subsidized so many
minds that the friends of right are powerless! Why, this is the
very demonstration that 1 am right. This is the crowning con-
demnation of your system.

You seem also to think 1 wrote with great severity. 1 did
write with great severity in one sense. How came you to over-
look the fact, which every dispassionate reader saw, that my
severity was all aimed, not at Virginia, but at her conquerors
and oppr^sors? Was it because you found yourself in fuller
sympathy with those conquerors than with your oppressed fel-
low-citizens? Take heed, lest some, less your friends than 1,
should conclude m.

Notwithstading your glorying, then, I mean once more to
assert the unfashionable truth. Truth is never out of date. It
has sometimes happened that a tentative experience has thrown
so much light upon a bad system as to re-open the discussion
with better guidance than the previous. If the American peo-
ple, after enjoying this bepralsed system, are so deficient in can-
dor and intelligence that they cannot review and amend wrong
action, this is suflSciently convictive of the worthlessness of the
plan.

Let me also, at the outset, arrest all invidious outcry by say-
ing that 1 am an advocate of the most universal education possi-
ble, provided it be true education. I heartily recognize all the
teachings of the golden rule, of philanthrophy, and of equality
(so far as equality is righteous), which prompt us to desire for
all our fellow-creatures, so far as possible, all the advantages of
culture we value for ourselves — and that without distinguish-
ing against classes. Let me say, once for all, / am an advocate
for the Slate's providing, if necessary, all the aid for poor chil-
dren's schooling which is really desirable and •will be really util-
ized by them— that is, UPON THE OLD VIRGINIA PLAN. 1
wish to satisfy the most overweening by the express admission
that universal education wouldi'be a good thing, were it practica-
ble. The argument is that under that providential order which
God has imposed upon society, the effectual literary education
of all is im,pos8ible, and therefore the promise of it as delusive
and mischevious, and that when the State is an American demo-

194 THE STATE FBEK SCHOOL SYSTEM.

cracy, especially, it is no safe or suitable agent for doing the
work.

We begin by reasserting the familiar objection, so often
contemptuously dismissed, that the principle upon which the
State intrudes into the parental obligation and function of edu-
cating all children, is dangerous and agrarian. It is the teach-
ing of the Bible and of sound political ethics that the education
of children belongs to the sphere of the family and is the duty of
the parents. The theory that the children of the CSommon-
wealth are the charge of the Commonwealth is a pagan one,
derived from heathen Sparta and Plato's heathen republic, and
connected toy regular, logical sequence with legalized prostitu-
tion and the dissolution of the conjugal tie. The dispensation
of Divine Providence determines the social grade and the cul-
ture of children on their reaching adult age by the diligence and
faithfulness of their parents, just as the pecuniary condition of
children at that ejwch is determined. The desire of procuring
for their children a desirable condition in all these respects is
the grand stimulus which Providence has provided for the ef-
forts of parents. It is His ordination that youth shall inherit
the status provided for them by their parents, and improved it by
their own exertions as aided by the Christian philanthropy of
their fellow-men. Now, by what apology does the State (not an
evangelical, nor an eleemosynary institute by its nature) justify
itself in stepping in to revolutionize that order? By the plea
that it (the State) is so vitally interested in the intelligence of
the Citizens that this entitles her to take effectual means for pre-
venting their ignorance. See, now, whither this assumption
leads. The morality of the citizens is far more essential to the
welfare of the State; and the only effectual basis for morals is
the Christian religion. Therefore the State would ibe yet more
bound to take order that all youth be taught Christianity. And
this is just the argument by which Dr. Chalmers and Mr. Glad-
stone (before his political somersaults began) strenuously de-
fended churoh establishments. Again, physical destitution of
the citizens is as dangerous to the State as ignorance; therefore
the State would be entitled to interfere for her own protection
and repair that calamitous condition of destitution which their
own and their parents' vices and laziness have entailed on a
part of the people, by confiscating, for their relief, the honestly-

THE STATE FKEE SOFTOOL SYSTEM. 195

earned property of the virtuous and thrifty and their children.
The last two inferences are precisely as fair as the first. Prin-
ciples always bear their fruits; and the friends of this principle
will in due time become consistent, and claim at least the last
inference, along with the first. They are not likely to adopt
the second, because the culture and ethics of the "common
school" will leave them, after a time, too corrupt and atheistic
to reoognize the value of morality or its sDurce — the Christian
religion.

We often hear this apology for the State's wholesale intrus-
ion into education advanced with the exactness of a eommer-
cial transaction. They say: "It CDsts less money to build
school-houses than jails." But what if it turns out that the
State's expenditure in school-house is one of the things which
necessitates the expenditure in jails? The fruits of the system
show that such is the result, and hence the plea for the State's
intrusion is utterly delusive. The regular result of the kind of
educatiDn which alone it can give is to propagate crime. Alli-
son's History of Europe states that forty years ago two-tliirds
of the inhabitants of France could neither read nor write. In
Prussia, at the same time, the government had made secular ed^
ucation almost universal, toy compelling parents tD send their
children tD school from seven to fourteen years of age. Statis-
tics of the two countries show that serious crime was at that
time fourteen times as prevalent in intelligent Prussia as in ig-
UDrant France — volume V., page 15. Again it has been found
from the official records of the 86 departments of Prance
that the amount of crime has, withDut a single exception, been
in proportion to the amount of scholastic instruction given in
each. Again, we are told that much the largest number of the
lewd women of Paris come from thDse departments where there
is most instruction. In .Scotland the educated criminals are to
the uneducated as four and a half tD one. M. I>e Toqueville re-
marke'd of the United States that crime increased most rapidly
where there was most instructiDn. The ancients testify that the
moral condition of the "Barbarians" was comparatively pure
beside that of the Greeks and Romans, and that the most refined
cities were the most corrupt. But let us bring the comparison
nearer home. The Northern States of the Union had previous-
ly to the war all adopted the system of universal State schools,

196 THE STATE TBEK SOHOGL STSTEM.

and the Southern States had not. In 1850 the former had tliir
teen and a half millions of people, and twenty-three thousand
six hundred and sixty-four criminal convictions. The Soulli
(without State schools) had nine and a half millions, and two
thousand nine hundred and twenty-one criminal convictions —
that is to say, after allowing for the difference of population,
the "educated" masses were something more than six times as
criminal as the "uneducated." The same year the North was
supporting 114,700 paupers, and the South 20,500. The "unin-
telligent" South was something more than four times as well
qualified to provide for its own subsistence as the "intelligent"
North! But Massacihusetts is the native home of the public
school in America. In 'Boston and its adjacent county the per-
sons in jails, houses of correction or refuge, and in alms-houses
bore among the whites the ratio of one to every thirty-four.
(Among the wretched, free blacks it was one to every sixteen.)
In Richmond, the capital of "benighted" Virginia, the same un-
happy classes bore the ratio of one to every one hundred and
twelve. Such are the lessons of fact. Indeed, it requires only
the simpliest ocular inspection to convince any observer that
the economical plea for State schools is illusory. In the South
State school-houses were unknown, and consequently jails and
penitentiaries were on the most confi|ied and humble scale. The
North is studded over with grand and costly public school-hous-
es, and her jails are even more "palatial" in extent and more
numerous than they.

All such pro'miscnous efforts to educate the whole masses
by any secular authority must disappoint our hopes, and result
in mischief, for a second reason. It finds its illustration in the
homely proverb, that "while one man may lead a horse to water
a hundred cannot make him drink." True education, taken in
any extent of its meaning, broad or narrow, is so greatly a moral
process that a certain amount of aspiration and desire in its suib-
ject Is an absolute prerequisite. The horse may be drenched,
but that is not drinking; and the drench is not nourishment to
be assimilated, but medicine. So, a knowledge of letters may be
"exhibited" (as the medical men phrase it) to the resisting or
apathetic mind; but there is no assimilation of the mental fahu-
lum and no recruitment of spiritual strength. Something else
must be first done, then, besides building and equipping a school

THB STATi! FREE SOHOOL SYSTHM. 197

for souls which are in this State; and that is something which
the State can never do — at least not by its schools. The moral
aspiration and virtuous aims must be present, which alone will
utilize a knowledge of letters. This is very plain. Now, it will
be found generally true that in this country it is precisely the
children of those who are presumed to need State education, and
for whom the provision is chiefly designed, who are in this un-
prepared condition. If the State contained no children save
those of parents who had the intelligence, the virtue, the aspir-
ation, and also the property, or else the industry, which would
■make them resolved and able to educate their own, then, of
course, it would be wholly superfluous for the Government to in-
terfere. But these are the only children to whom letters are, in
the general a real means of culture or elevation. Separate those
who, in our fruitful land have neither aspiration, nor industry,
nor property enough to insure that they will educate their own
children, and in those children we usually find precisely that
apathetic and hopeless condition, which renders this means nu-
gatDry, or worse. The parents are the real architects of their
children's destiny, and the State cannot help it. There are, of
course, exceptions. There are meritorious parents reduced by
exceptional calamities to destitution, and there are a few
"rough diamonds" unearthed in the unlikely mines of grovelling
families. Such exceptions should be provided ior; but wise
legislators do not make universal systems to reach exceptional
cases.

The law which we assert is accounted for by several pradti-
cal causes. Parents who remain too poor and callous to educate
their own children are so because they are ignorant, indolent,
unaspiring, and vicious. The children's characters are usually
as much the progeny of the parents as their bodies. Again:
The aspiration, virtuous desire, and energy of the parents are ab-
solutely essential to supply that impulse, which the child's mind
requires to overrule its youthful heedlessness, and to impel it to
employ and assimilate its otherwise useless acquisitions. Aod
once more: The home education is sd much more potential than
that of the school, that the little modicum of training which a
"common-school" system can give to the average masses is ut-
terly trivial and impotent as a means of reversing the child's ten-
dency. That which costs nothing is never valued. Old Judge

198 THE STATE FEEE SCHOOL SYSTEM.

Buell, of Albany, placed a sack of a new variety of beautiful
wheat upon the counter of the pavilion at a great agricultural
fair, with a label inviting every farmer to take one quart as a
gratuity, for seed. At night the sack was almost untouched.
The old gentleman fretted at this result, took it the second day
to the booth of a seeds man, and directed him to sell it at two
dollars per quart. It was at once bought up greedily. One of
the best teachers we ever knew determined to devote his latter
years to the philanthropic work of teaching a gratuitous school
for his neighbors. In a few months it had dwindled to five pu-
pils, and died a natural death within a year. There is a natural
humiliation also in being compelled to accept the provision of
charity, or of the State, for that which conscience tells parents
is obligatory on them. These reasons account for the fact,
which the advocates of public schools so desire to hide, that th<^
children do not attend, and the parents do not care to make them
attend. He who goes ''behind the scenes" in the Northern
States knows how extensively this is true. The rising move-
ment for a "compnlsory education" is a confession of this fact.
The unwilling disclosure of the failure of the system is the only
thing this new movement will effect; for its folly is clear from
this simple thought, that it contravenes, worse than all, the ax-
iom: "One man can lead the horse to water," etc. Hence it re-
sults, that the class which is low enough to need this State aid,
is one which usually cannot be elevated by it. But the abor-
tive effort will awaken other influences, as we shall see, "which
are likely to make the children more miserable and less innocent
than their ignorant parents.

Must the philanthropist, then, submit to the conclusion
that ignorance and its consequences must needs be hereditary,
and that knowledge, culture, and virtue are not to be extended
beyond the fortunate youth for whom their parents secure them?
We reply: this sad law does hold, and must hold to a far wider
extent than our over-weening zeal is willing to acknowledge.
Yet its rigor may be relaxed but not by the meddling of the civil
magistrate or the arm of legislation. The agency must be so-
cial and Christian. The work must be done by laying hold of
the sentiments, hearts, and consciences of parents and children
together — not through their grammatical and arithmetical fac-
ulties. The agents for this blessed work are i/i' neighbor and

THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 199

the church. Christian cliarity and zeal, witli tlie potent social
influences descending from superiors to inferiors, in a society
which is practically a kindly and liberal aristocracy; these may
break the reign of ignorance and unaspiring apathy. The State
cannot ; the wopk is above its sphere.

Very respectfully, your oibedient servant,

B. L. DABNEY.

DR. DABNEY AGAIN.

Universal Education as Involving the Idea of the Leveller — All
cannot Aspire to the Highest Stations — Manual Labor or
Savagery the Destiny of the Major Part — -Fancy Philan-
thropists — The Common School Alumni — Theological
Quacks' — A Little Learning a Dangerous Thing.

IL

Ham/pden Sidney, Va., April 22, 1876.
To W. H. Ruffner, Esq., Superintendtnt of State Schools:

Dear Sir. — In the third place this theory of universal edu-
cation in letters by the State involves the absurd and impossi-
ble idea of the Leveller, as though it were "possible for all men
to have equal destinies in human society. It is a favorite pro-
position with the asserters of these so-called American ideas,
that "every American boy should improve himself as though he
might some day be President of the United States." That is to
say, the system supposes and fosters a universal discontent with
the allotments of Providence, and the inevitable graduations of
rank, possessions and privilege. It is too obvious to need many
words, that this temper is anti-Christian ; the Bible, in its whole
tone, inculcates the opposite spirit of modest contentment with
our sphere, and directs the honorable aspiration of the good
man to the faithful performance of its duties, rather than to the
amfbitious purpose to get out of it and alwve it. It may be ask-
ed, does not the Bible reoognize that fact, so pleasing to every
generous mind, that the lower ranks now and then produce a
youth worthy of the highest? Yes, David was taken from the
sheep-folds to be Israel's most glorious king. But the Bible-
idea is (and David's was a case precisely in point) that the hum-
ble boy is to exhibit this fitness for a nobler destiny, nat by dis-
content and greedy cravings, but by his exemplary performances
in his lower lot ; and that Providence and his fellow-citizens are

1 —Appeared In Richmond injuirer 800

THE STATE FBEE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 201

to call him to "come up higher." For these instances of native
merit, which are usually few, the State has no need to legislate.
They will rise of themselves. They cannot be kept down, pro-
vided only we do not legislate against them, but leave them the
carriere euverte aux talents; or, if they will be the (better for any
provision, it should be exceptional, as they are exceptional cases.
With this exception, it is utterly false that every American
boy may aspire to the higher stations of life. In the lottery of
life these prizes must be relatively few — only a few can reach
them. Nor is it right or practicable to give to all boys an "even
start" in the race for them. The State, of course, should not leg-
islate to the disadvantage of any in this race; but we mean that
Providence, social laws, and parental virtues and efforts, do in-
evitably legislate in favor of some classes of boys in their start
in that race, and if the State undertakes to countervail that leg-
islation of nature by levelling action, the attempt is wicked, mis-
chievous, and futile. The larger part of every civilized people
is, and ever will be, iaddicted to regular, manual labor. The idea
that the diffusion of intelligence and improvement of the arts
are so to lighten the doom of labor, that two or three hours'
work daily will provide for the wants of all, and leave the low-
est laborer the larger part of his day for intellectual pursuits, is
a preposterous dream. Let experience decide. Does the pro-
gress of modern civilization tend to exact "shorter hours" of its
laborers than the barbarous state? Human desires always out-
run human means. If this Utopian era is ever to come, when
two or three hours of the artisan's time will 'be worth a day's
work, the artificial wants of him and his family will have outrun
him, in demanding the expenditure of five or six days' wages in
one. The laborer will still find a motive for working all day as
now — unless he turn loafer! And the last words remind us,
that the dnexoraible law of nature we have just pointed out is, on
the whole, a beneficent one; for it is necessary to prevent man-
kind from abusing their leisure. The leisure conferred by
wealth is now often abused. So would that secured for the
poor, by this fancied wealth of intelligence, be yet more abused;
and the six or eight hours redeemed from manual toil would
be devoted, not to intellectual pursuits, but to wasteful and de-
grading vices. And these vices would soon rivet again the yoke
of constant labor upon their necks, or the fetters of the jail or

202 THE STATE FEEE SCHOOL STSTKM.

house of CDrreetion. We repeat: The destiny of
the major part of the human family is the alternative of manual
labor or savagery.

Now, no people will ever connect a real pursuit of mental
culture with the lot of constant manual labor. The two are in-
compatible. Neither time, nor taste, nor strength, nor energy of
brain will be found for both. Have not all manual-labor
schools been failures? The man that works all day (usually)
does not study. The nerve-force has been expended to the mus-
cles, and none is left for mental effort. Hence, we care not how
universally the State may force the arts of penmanship and
reading on the children of laborers, when these become laboring
men they will cease to read and write ; tbey will practically dis-
use the arts as cumbersome and superfluous. This is a fact at
which your enthusiast for common schools is very loath to look ;
but it is a stubborn one. The laboring classes in States which
profess to give a universal education do not make any more
beneficial use of letters, than those elsewhere. Prussia has for
more than a generation CDniipelled all her peasantry to go to
school; but she is full of middle-aged peasants who have forgot-
ten how to read, and who, in fact, never read. In boasted Mas
sachusetts herself the very superintendents of the free schools
lament that the State has more than ever of laboring poor, espe-
cially among the agricultural laborers, who neither know nor
care anything concerning letters, for themselves or their chil-
dren. The denyers of these stubborn facts are only the flatter-
ers, not the friends, of the laborers.

Again our fancy-5)hilanthro(pIst will raise his out-cry, that if
these views are admitted they condemn more than half of our
fellow-creatures to a Boeotian stupidity and mental darkness.
We might answer, first, that his expedients are futile to reverse
that doom. The only difference ibetween him and us is, that
he is toD quixotic, or uncandid, or interested, to admit the fact.
God has made a sodal sub-soil to the top-soil, a social founda-
tion in the dust, for the superstructure — ^the Utopian cannot un-
make it, least of all by his patchwork. But there is a
second answer; he fDrgets that the use of letters is not educa-
tion, but only one means of education, and not the only means.
The laboring classes find their appropriate mental and moral
cultivation in their tasks themselves, and in the example and in-

THE STATE TREK SCHOOL SYSTEM. 203

fluence of the superiors for whom they labDr. The plough-man
or artisan cultivates his mental faculties most appropriately in
acquiring skill and resource for his work. He trains the moral
virtues by the fidelity and endurance with which he performs
that work. He ennobles his taste and sentiments by looking up
t9 the superior who employs him. Jf to these influences you add
the awakening, elevating, expanding force of Christian princi-
ples, you have given that laborer a true education — a hundred
fold more true, more sui table, more useful, than the communica-
iAon of certain literary arts, which he will almost necessarily
disuse. Let the reader recall that brilliant passage of Macaulay,
as just as brilliant, in which he shows, against Dr. JohnsDu, that
the Athenian populace, without books, was a highly-cultivated
people. Let him remember how entirely the greatness of the
feudal barons in the middle ages, was dissociated from all
"clerkly arts;" yet they were warriors, statesmen, poets, and
gentlemen. So, our own country presents an humbler instance
in the more respectable of the African freedmen. Tens of
thousands of these, ignorant of letters, but trained to practical
skill, thought, and resource, by intelligent masters, and imitat-
ing their superior breeding and sentiments, present, in every
aspect, a far "higher style of man'' than your Yankee laborer
fr9m his commDU school, with his shallow smattering and pur-
blind conceit, and his wretched newspaper stuffed with moral
garbage from the police-courts, and with false and poisonous
heresies in politics and religion. Put such a man in the same
arena with the Southern slave from a respectable plantation,
and in one week's time the ascendancy of the Negr9, in self-res-
pect, courage, breeding, prowess and practical intelligence, will
assert itself palpably to the Yankee and to all spectators. The
slave was, in fact, the educated man.

Let it be granted, as we have just implied, that there is a
certain use which this alumnus of the common school may con-
tinue to make of his knowledge of letters. This gives us our
strongest argument. Then the common schools will have cre-
ated a numerous "public" of readers one-quarter or one-tenth
cultivated; and the sure result will be the production for their
use ot a false, shallow, sciolist literature, science, and theology,
infinitely worse than blank ignorance. "Wheresoever the car-
cass is, thither will the eagles te gathered together." This will

204 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.

be the sure result of the law of supply and demand inspired by
a mercenary spirit. Formerly literature was for the educated ;
it was tlieir occupation, and they formed the constituency for
whom the prDducers of literature labored; consequently the lit-
erature of the civilized nations was characterized by all that
was most decent in manner, elevated in sentiment, and thor-
ough and just in argument, of which their society could boast.
The uneducated or quarter-educated formed no direct constitu-
ency for authors and publishers; they did not bid for them, or
cater to them. These unlettered classes received their ideas of
literary, political, philosophical, and theological subjects (the
most ignorant virtually have their politics, philosophy, and the-
ology), from their social Superiors, through social channels. And
this was a source much safer than the present "literature for
the millions," because much higher, purer, and more disinterest-
ed. The consequence was, that the unlettered classes reflected
the opinions, sentiments, and elevated tone of the uppermost
stratum; now it is those of a class lower and mjore sordid than
themselves. Thus the Southern overseer, who read little but
his Bible, had a judgment infinitely better trained, a moral tone
far higher, and a social, political, and religious creed far sounder
than the modem alumnus of your "common school," with his
Leveller's arrogance and envy, and his armful of cheap news-
papers. The overseer had the landed gentry who employed
him as his instructors and models, and through them drew his
speculative opinions from tlie noblest minds of the South; the
Crawfords, Cheves, Madisons, Barbours, Randolphs, Calhouns.
The oommon-sohool alumnus has the wretched sciolists and
theological quacks, who drive their sordid trade in cheap peri-
odical literature. The advocates of the Yankee system boast in
it, and revile the old one in that the latter made letters the pre-
rogative of the few; theirs of the many. But letters of what
sort? Here we have "given them a Roland for their Oliver."

We appeal to facts. Has not the creation of this lai^e
reading (but not truly educated) public occasioned a flood of
mischievous, heretical, sciolistic, eorruipting literature? The
result is that the book and newspaper-making trade has, for
sordid purposes, brought down to the lower classes a multitude
of speculations on the most dangerous subjects, with which no
mind is prepared to deal for itself and independently, until it is

THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 205

very thoroughly trained and informed. That thorough mental
discipline and full learning the common schools can never give
to these masses. They may as well promise that every agrarian
among them shall be an Astor or a Rothschild in weaith. The
state of European and Yankee society under this new impulse
illustrates the facts we assert. The smattering which State
education has given the masses has but been to them the open-
ing of Pandora's box. It has only launched them in an ocean
which they are incompetent to navigate. Every manufactory
is converted into a debating club; where the operatives intoxi-
cate their minds with the most licentious vagaries of opinions
upon every fundamental subject of politics and religion; and
thty have only knowledge enough to run into danger, without
having a tenth part of the knowledge necessary to teach them
their danger and incompetency. It was this system
which prepared the way for the "International So-
ciety," and the horrors of the Paris Commune. So far are these
nations from being healthily illuminated, they are an easy prey
to the most destructive heresies, social and religious; and their
condition is far more unwholesome and volcanic, with a more
terrifying prospect of social dissolution, anarchy, and blood-
shed, than was ever presented by the ignorance of the "middle
ages." So obvious was this tendency to thoughtful minds thir-
ty-flve years ago that the great hisborian Heerea, with his inti-
mate acquaintance with all the defects of mediaeval society, an-
nounced the deliberate opinion that the art of printing was des-
tined to be more a curse than a blessing to Europe. It is not
necessary for us to espouse that opinion; here is, at least, a fair
instance for the application of the maxim of Pope, now so uni-
versally and disdainfully ignored :

"A Tittle learning is a dangerous thing,
Drink deep, or taste not tlie Pierian spring;
For shallow draughts intoxicate the brain.
But drinking deeply sobers us again."

Thf amount of this grave objection is that when the State
interferes in the work of common school education, it inevitably
does not enough, or too much. To give that large learning and
thorough discipline necessary for setting the mind to deal inde-

206 TfiE SrTArrB E'R££ SCHOOL SYSTEM.

pendenr'i with the corrupt labyrinth of modern current opinion
is beyond the State's power. What she does give usually pre-
pares the victims for the literary seducers.

It is one of the most important and best established maxims
of social science that influence descends. Hence, if you would
permeate the whole popular mass with any wholesale influeuce,
the wisest plan is to place the element of good at the top, that
it may percolate downwards. The engineer, when he wishes to
supply the humblest, lowliest lane or alley of a city with pure
water, establishes his reservoir upon the topmost hill; and
thence it descends, without any other force than its own gravity,
to every door and every lip. So the most effectual, the most
truly philanthropic mode for elevating the lower classes of so-
ciety is to provide for the rise of the superior class. This is na-
ture's process; she elevates the whole mass by lifting it from
above so that all the parts rise together, preserving that relation
of places on whose preservation the whole organism depends.
Thefashionable.planis to place the lever under the bottom stones
and prize them to the level of the cap-stones of which the result
is that the whole structure tumbles into rubbish. The establish-
ment of the University of Virginia for giving the most thorough
training to advanced scholars has been the most truly liberal
measure for the cultivation of the masses ever adopted in the
State. It teaches only a few hundred of young men, and those
only in the highest studies? True, but in giving them a higher
standard of acquirement it has elevated as well as multiplied all
the teachers of every grade; making the instruction better, down
to the primary schools where the children of the poor learn the
rudiments of reading. And what is better still, it has made
thorough culture respectafble, and diffused honest aspirations
to the lowest ranks. Your very obedient servant,

R. L. DABNEY.

ANOTHER DABNEY BOLT FOK DR. BUFFNER'S BENE-
FIT.

Overweening Philanthropists — Decent and Vile Children — The
Danger of Disease — ^What Dr. Dabney Thinks of Southern
Negroes as Compared with Northern Poor Whites — Dema-
gogues and Politicians and Their Relation to the Free
School System — The Testimony of Webster, Not the Dic-
tionary Man — An Alternative Horrible to Contemplate.

III.

Hampden Sidney, Va., April 25, 1876.
To W. H.Ruffner Esq., Superintendent of StaU Schools:

Dear Sir. — In the objections thus far set forth there are
premises which, however true and impregnalble, are now so un-
fashionable that with many they will meet no response but an
angry outcry. The application of them would demolish so
many vain idols, now much cherished, that the writer cannot
hope for a hearing even, from many minds. Time must be the
only teacher for these overweening philanthropists. When they
are taught by him that this system of State education has utter-
ly failed to produoe the benefits they designed, and has fixed on
us the mischiefs above described, they will learn that these are
the words of truth and soberness. But we punpDse to present
three other points of objection not involving the principles ex-
pounded in the previous part of this discussion, more practical
and indisputable; and either one of these is sufficient for the ut-
ter condemnation of the system.

The first is, that if a system of universal common schools is
to be carried out in good faith, there must be a mixture of the
children of the decent and the children of the vile in the same
society during the most plastic age. The boast is : that the ed-

1 Appearedin Richmond iT.quirer. 207

208 TttB Mate i'eee school system.

ucation is to be for all, and most prominently for the lowest and
most ignorant, because they need it most. Then, if this boast
is to ibe faithfully realized, all the moral lepers among the chil-
dren of a given district must ibe thrust into the society of our
children at school. In order to receive the shallow modicum of
letters there dispensed, they must be daily brought into personal
contact with the cutaneous and other diseases, the vermin —
(Yes, dear reader, it is disgusting ! We would spare you if faith-
fulness (permitted; but the foulness belongs to the plan, not to
us) — the obscenity, the profanity, the groveling sentiments, the
violence of the gamins, with which our boasted material civili-
zation teems in its more populous places. This must be done,
too, at the tender and imitative age of childhoods The high,
sacred prerogative of the virtuous parent to choose the moral
influences for his own beloved offspring must be sacrificed to
this ruthless, levelling idol. Every experienced teacher knows
that pupils educate each other more than he educates them. The
thousand nameless influences — literary, social, moral — ^not only
of the play-gpound but of the school-room, the whispered conver-
sation, the clandestine note, the sly grimace, the sly pinch, the
good or bad recitation, mould the plastic character of children
far more than the most faithful teacher's hand.

Now, there are some quarters of our towns and cities, and
some rural neighborhoods, where this difBculty is little felt;
either because the limited population is nearly homogeneous, or
because the poor are decent and virtuous. Especially has the
latter case been realized in many country communities of the
South, where such was the cleanliness, propriety, good breed-
ing, and moral elevation of the poorer families, imbibed from
their kindly dependence on cultivated superiors, that a neigh-
borhood school could be made to include all the white children,
without serious injury to the morals of any. But the levelling
■policy, of which State eom'mon schools are a constituent mem-
ber, now claims to make the blacks equal, socially and political-
ly, to the most reputable whites. Against the collection of
white children into the same public schools with Negroes, the
very principle which we are illustrating, has made a protest so
indignant and determined that, although the protest of the con-
quered, it has been heard in all the Southern States, except
Louisiana. The refusal to hear it there resulted in the absolute

tttE STATE FRBK SCHOOL SYSTEM. 20fl

banishment of the children of the white citizens from the schools
supported by their money. And this protest has not been, as
the enemy and conqueror deems it, the mere expression of caste-
prejudice, but the conscientious dfemand of the natural right to
our children from moral contamination. Here, then, we have a
broad, a recognized application of this potent objection to the
State system. The whole Southern people make the objection;
nearly all the friends of State education admit its force in this
case. But on this conceded case there are two remarks to be
made. First, the concession is inconsistent with the whole the-
ory of State schiools and of the levelling system to which they
belong. This is so clearly felt, that even now the determined ad-
vocates of State education are candid enough to foreshadow the
withdrawal of the concession, speaking of it as an arrangement
"necessary for the time ibeing." Is it your opinion that this con-
cession should be yielded to us temporarily or permanently? Do
you think that it should be withdrawn after a little, when all the
staunch old Confederates like me have died out ; or that the Ne-
groes should never be admitted to the same schools as the
whites? Yankeedom and Negrodom are listening for your con-
sistent answer. Second. The Southern Negroes are a less de-
graded and vicious race than many large elements of the white
poor, who, in parts of the North, have free entrance into the
common schools there. Indeed, the force of the social objection
is felt and acted on by numbers of the Northern people. Many
are the blatant advocates of the system^ among the people of
property, who yet dream not of sending their own children* to
the common schools. They consult their popularity by pretend-
ing to advocate the system; and yet, for their own offspring,
they will not so much as touch it with a tip of their fingers. And
many are the Phariasaic negrophobists who bereate and revile
the Southern people for resisting this abhorrent amalgamation
of their children with blacks; who would flout with foul scorn
the proposal to send their own pampered brats to the common
school near them along with the children of their poor white
neighbors.

Sometimes it is asked, "How are the degraded classes to be
elevated if they are thus to be denied all association with those
better than themselves?" We reply that while we fully recog-
nize the Christian duty of seeking the degraded and of drawing

210 THB STATE TEEE SCHOOL SYSTEM.

them up to purer associatione, we beg leave to demur against
employing our innocent and inexperienced children as the mis-
sionaries. The braving of this moral contagion is the proper
work of mature men and women of virtue; and these are to ele-
vate their beneficiaries by holding to them the relation of bene-
volent superiors, not of comrades and equals in school-room
and play-ground. It is claimed thai it is the teacher's part to
prevent those "evil communications which corrupt good man-
ners." We reply that it is impossible; he would need more than
the hundred hands of Briareus and the hundred eyes of Argus,
with more moral fidelity than falls to the share of any save
apostles and martyrs. Is the pittance paid to a common-school
teacher likely to purchase all these splendid endowments? It is
said that if a fastidious parent does not like the social atmos-
phere of the common school he may pay for a more select pri-
vate one. But he is taxed compulsorily to support this school
which parental duty fonbids him. to use; so that the system in
this case amounts to an iniquitous penalty upon him for his
faithfulness to his conscience. What clearer instance of perse-
cution could arise? Once more it is sneeringly asked: "Have
children's morals never been corrupted in private schools?"
They have, alas, often been. But this only shows our argument
stpffliger instead of weaker; for it proves that parental vigilance
as to the moral atmosphere of the children's oomradesi needs to
be greatly increased; while this system insists upon extinguish-
ing all such conscientious watchfulness, and provides the pun-
ishident of a mulct for its exercise.

The second objection is yet more damning as against the
system of State schools in this country. They are, and will in-
evitably be, wielded by the demagogues, who are in power for
the time, in the interests of their faction. Here is a danger and
a curse which must not be estimated by the results of the system
in any other country, such as Scotland or Prussia. In the for-
mer kingdom the Presbyterian system of parochial schools gave
what was virtually a national primary education. But it was not
obnoxious to this perversion to factious uses. Scotland is a lit-
tle country, and was then almost alwolutely homogeneous in
religion and politics; the government was a stable, hereditary
monarchy, of the change of which there was neither possibility
nor desire; the schools were controlled by the parish clergy and

THE STATE FREB SCHOOL SYSTEM. 211

kirk sessions, parties whose attitude was at onoe independent,
and dissociated from political objects and managers. In Prus-
sia, also, we see a permanent military monarchy ruling the peo-
ple with a uniformity and resistless power which has hitherto
left no hope to the demagogue. It is very true that this mon-
archy does manipulate the State schools in the interest of its
own perpetuity, and in doing so indicts on the minds of the
people no little injury. But the wrDng thus done is as white
as snow compared with pitch, when set against the foul per-
versions wrought by our demagogues in power. For an old,
stable monarchy is always infinitely more decent and moderate
than a democratic faction in America rioting on the spoils of
party success. The teachings of the monarchy, if self-interest-
ed, are at least conservative and consistent; and they include
a respectaible knowledge of the Christian religion. It will bo
utterly delusive, therefore, to argue for the value of State com-
mon schools tvora Scotland or Prussia. Our demagogues will
take effectual care that our schools shall not yield us even the
mixed fruits which those nations have reaped from theirs.

For what is it on wliich American politicians do not lay
their harpy hands to get or to keep the spoils of office? On the
offices themselves, which the law has instituted for the public
service; on finance; on commerce; on the railroads; on the
productive industries of the citizens; on taxation; on our holy
religion itself! And, like the harpies, whatever they touch
they contaminate! That the school system of the States is per-
verted to factions and sordid ends is so notorious that we shall
n9t insult the intelligence of our readers by many testimonies.
Has not the supreme official of the school system in the State
of Indiana, for instance, been seen to publish to the world his
unblushing boast that he had successfully arrested the whole
machinery to inculcate upon all the children of that State the
malignant and lying creed of Radicalism? And this man, after
satisfying his masters, the Radical Legislature, of his success
in placing this gospel of hate and murder, and these utter falsi-
fications of history and fact and constitutional law, in the ten-
der hand of every child in Indiana, only intimates, in the most
gingerly and aipologetic way, a faint inclination to give them
the Word of God: which yet, he hastens to assure them, he had
not presumed to attempt! Again, these omnipotent school

212 THE 8TATB FEEB SCHOOL 8T8TEM.

boards, under the plausible pretext of uniformity of text-books,
enter into alliances with capitalists wbo are publishers of books
(for what solid consideration, who can tell?), giving them the
monopoly of manufacturing American history, ethics and poli-
tics for the children of a whole State, without leaving any op-
tion to the parent. This single feature, presented iby the alli-
ance of the "Book-Trade" with the Education Boards, is suffi-
cient to condemn the whole in the judgment of every inde-
pendent mind. If it is not corrected the liberty of the citizens
is gone. In some of those Southern States where the Conserva-
tives have been so fortunate as to retain control of the State
governments the advocates of State education are openly heard
attempting, in their new-born^eal, to reconcile the people to the
measure forced ,upon them by promising that it shall be so
manipulated as to train the next generation of negroes to vote
with the CJonservatives. Now the temptation of the oppressed
to foil their Oippressors may be very strong; ajid they may be
incUned to (be rather unscrupulous in the means of defense
against enemies so unscrupulous and abhorred as the carpet-
bag horde. It may be very alluring to us to employ this tyran-
nical system, which is forced upon us against our will, to the
ruin of its inventors, and thus to "hoist the engineer with his
own petard." But the foreseeing man cannot but remember
that it is a dangerous force which is employed, and that on any
change of the faction in power what we hope to make sauce to
the (Radical) goose may become sauce to the (Conservative)
gander. It is a hazardous game for good people to attempt to
"fight the devil with fire."

This perversion of a pretended system of education is as in-
tolerable as it is certain. It is hard enough to have a triumphant
faction rule us in a mode which outrages our sense of equity
and patriotism — shall they also abuse their power to poison the
minds of our own children against the principles which we
honor, and to infect them with the errors which we dfetest? Is
it not enough that our industries must all ibe burdened and our
interests blighted by the selfish expedients of demagogues
grasping after power and plunder? Must the very souls of our
children be made merchandise and trafficked with in the same
hateful cause? What freemen can endure it? These practices
have already disclosed their destructive fruits in preparing a

THE 8TATB FBEJB SCHOOL SYSTEM. 213

whole generation, by a pupilage of lies, for a war of plunder
and subjugation against the South. For years before the war the
sectional and aggressive party had control of the State educa-
tion in New England and the Northwest. They used their op-
portunity diligently; and the result was that when the chance
to strike came, they had a whole generation trained tD their
purpose in hatred of the South and in constitutional heresies.
Such was the testimony of Daniel Webster. Two gentlemen
from Virginia — old coUegemates of mine — were visiting Wash-
ington during Mr. Filmore's administratlDu. Webster's return
towards an impartial course had then gained him some respect
in the South, and my two friends paid their respects to him.
While conversing with them he fixed his dark eyes on them,
and with great earnestness asked: "Can't you Southern gen-
tlemen consent, upon some sort of inducement or plan, to sur-
render slavery?" They replied firmly : "Not to the interference
or dictation of the Federal Government. And this not on ac-
count of mercenary or selfish motives, but because tD allow
outside interference in this vital matter would forfeit the lib-
erties and other rights of the South." "Are you fixed in that?"
asked Webster. "Yes, unalterably." "Well," he said, with an
awful solemnity, "I cannot say you are wrong, but if you are
fixed in that, go home and get ready your weapons." They
asked him what on earth he meant. He replied, that the par-
sons and common-school teachers and school-marms had dili-
gently educated a whole Northern generation into a passionate
hatred of slavery, who would, as certainly as destiny, attack
SDuthern institutions. So that if Southern men were determined
not to surrender their institutions they had better prepare for
war. Thus, according to 'Mr. Webster, the crimes, woes, and
horrors of the last fifteen years are all partly due to this school
.system. The only condition in which free government can ex-
ist is amidst the wholesome competition of two great constitu-
tional parties, who watch and restrain each other. The result
of this system of State schools is that the successful party ex-
tinguishes its rival, and thus secures for itself an unchecked
career of usurpation. For it aims to extinguish all the diver-
sity and independence which the young would derive from par-
ental inculcation, and to imprint upDu the whole body of com-
ing citizens its own monotonous type of political heresies and

214 THK STATE FREE SCHOOL STSTBU.

passions. This is virtually done in America. For the Northern
Democratic iparty is only a little less radical than the Badicals,
and really separated from them chiefly by the craving for party
sp9ils. If the triumphant faction, wielding this 'power of uni-
versal education, happens to be one as able, patriotic, and hon-
est as the party of Knox and Melville, then there may result the
marvelous homogeneity and thrift of Presbyterian Scotland.
But the ascendant faction may happen to be a ruthless and un-
principled Radicalism, armed with this power of universal cor-
ruption of future opinion and morals! And what then? All
is lost; the remaining alternatives are Chinese civilization, or
savagery. Your very obedient servant, R. L. DABNEY.

DE. DABNEY'S BATTERY. ^

HE OPENS FIRE ON DR. RUFFNER FROM ANOTHER
QUARTER.

His Fourth Letter— The Bible in the Public Schools— The Diffi-
culty not Limited to America — Is Religious Training Essen-
tial? — The Human Spirit a Monad' — The Duty of Parents.

IV.

Hampden Sidney, Va., May 4, iSyd,
To W. H. Ruflner, Esq., Superintendent of State Schools:

Dear Sir. — The third objection to education by the State is,
if possible, more conclusive still. It is one which looms up al-
ready in such insuperable dimensions that we freely acknowl-
edge the hope that the whole system may be wrecked by it at
an early day. This is the difficulty, especially for American
Commonwealths, of the religious questiDn. What religion shall
be taught to the children by the State's teachers as the neces-
sary part of the education of reasonable and moral beings? We
have only to mention the well-known facts that the citizens
of these American States are conscientiDusly divided among
many and rival sects of religion, and that our forms of govefn-
ment tolerate no union of Church and State, and guarantee
equal rights to all men irrespective of their religious opimons,
to show to any fair mind how impossible it is for the advo-
cates of universal State education to do more than evade the
point of the difficulty. It has been made familiar to every read-
er of the newspapers in America iby recent events in this coun-
try — in New York, in Cincinnati, and elsewhere. The teaching
of King James's version of the Christian Scriptures even has led
to violent protest and even to actual riot and combat. The
most numerous and determined complainants are, of course,
Roman Catholics; but the Jews, now becoming increasingly nu-
merous and influential, and the Unitarians and Deists must

1 Appeared in Richmond Enquirer. 215

216 THE STATE FRKB SCHOOL SYSTEM.

claim similar grounds of protest. Their argument is that this
version of the Scriptures is, in their sincere judgment, erron-
eous; and therefore they cannot conscientiously permit it to be
taught to their children. But as they are taxed to support these
schools, they cannot be justly perverted to teach their children
an obnoxious creed without a virtual establishment of the
Protestant religion at public expense; which is an outrage
against the fundamental principles and laws of the State. The
special advocates of the common schools, who are usually also
zealous Protestants, try hard to flout this objection as captious.
But while we are very far from being Romanists in religion,
we feel that this difficulty cannot be justly disposed of in this
way. If the State, through its teachers, taught the children of
us Protestants that version of the Bible which makes the Re-
deemer say: "Except ye do penance ye shall all likewise per-
ish," we should make a determined resistance. No power on
earth would force us to acquiesce in such inculcation of what
we devoutly believe to be religious error. And we should feel
that it was an inexcusable injustice to tax us for the purpose of
teaching to our beloved children what we could not, at the peril
of our souls, permit them to learn. Now, the common-school
advocates of New York and of Ohio would say, our objection
is just, because the Latin vulgate is really an erroneous trans-
lation ; the objection of the Romanists is unjust because King
James's is a substantially correct version of God's word. As
theologians, and in an ecclesiastical arena, we assert that this is
true;<and are confident that we can establish it. But this is not
the point. We have covenanted that in our political relations
as citizens of the Commonwealth, all shall have equal rights
irrespective of their religion. In that sphere we are bound to
be impartial; "our word is out." The very point of the coven-
ant is, that 80 far as civic rights and privileges go, our Roman-
ist fellow-citizens' opinions (enioneous though we deem them,
in our religious judgment) shall be respected precisely as they
are required to respect ours. The weight of the Romanist pro-
test, then, cannot be consistently evaded by American repub-
licans.

This difficulty is not limited to our democratic land. In
Great Britain and Ireland, where the government is moving for
national education, all the denominations of Christians are
hopelessly involved in it. For the settlement of this matter,

THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 217

there are, if the State educates, but three possible alternatives.
One is to force the religion of the majority on the children of
the minority of the people. The injustice of this has already
been proved. A second soluti3n is what the British call the
plan of "concurrent endowment." It consists in aiding the citi-
zens of different religions to gather their children in separate
schools, in which religiDUs instruction may be given suited to
the views of the parents, and all paid f9r by the State alike.
The clamors of the Romanists in New York have been partially
appeased by acts falling virtually undep this plan. The city
government, in view of the fact that Romanists cannot con-
scientiously send their children to schools which they are taxed
to support, make apprDpriations of public money to some of
their schools, which are in every respect managed after their
own religious ideas. This "concurrent endowment" is justly as
odious to the great Protestant body, both in this country and
Great Britain, as any plan could be. It Dffers its seeming solu-
tion only in places populous enDugh in the several rival reli-
gions to furnish materials for a school to each. In all other
places it makes no provision tor the difficulty. It is a dereliction
from principle in a State prevalently Protestant in its popula-
tion thus to place contradictory systems of belief upon a com-
plete legislative equality, teaching both alike, when the truth
of the one inevitably implies the falsehDod of the other. It
outrages the rights of Protestants by expending a part of the
money they pay in propagating opinions which they regard as
false and destructive, and it gives to erroneous creeds a pecun-
iary and moral support beyond that which they draw frDm the
zeal and free gifts of tbeir own votaries. For these reasons the
plan of "concurrent endowment" is reprobated by all the strong-
er denominations on both sides of the Atlantic. The Irish and
American Catholics profess to approve it, because they expect
to gain something by it, but miost inconsistently. Who dreams
that if they held the power, and were in the majority in either
the British or Yankee empire (as in the French), they would be
willing tD see "good Catholic money" appropriated by the State
to teach "Protestant heresies?"

The third alternative proposed is, to limit the teaching of
the State schools in every case to secular learning, leaving the
parents to supply such religious instruction as they see fit in

218 THE STATE FBEJC SCHOOL SYSTEM.

their own way and time, or to neglect it wholly. Of this solu-
tion no Christian of any name can be an advocate. We have
seen how utterly the Pope and his prelates reprobate it. All
other denominatdons in Ehirope regard it as monstrous; and in-
deed no adherent of any religion can be found in any other age
or country than America who would not pronounce it wicked
and absurd for any agency undertaking the education of youtJi
to leave their religious culture an absolute blank. Testimonies
might be cited to weariness; we will satisfy ourselves with a
few, two of which are of peculiar relevancy, because drawn
from unwilling witnesses, earnest advocates of State schools.
In an annual meeting of the Teachers' Association of the State
of Maryland a well-oonsidered piece was read by a prominent
member, in which the immense difficulty of the religious ques-
tion in State schools was fairly displayed. The author, on the
one hand, admitted that the rights of conscience of parents
could not be justly disregarded. He held, on the other, that a
schooling devoid of moral and religious teachings ought to be
utterly inadmissable. The best solution he could suggest was,
that the State should get up a course of moral and theological
dogmas for its pupils, embracing only those common truths in
which all parties are agreed, and excluding every truth to which
any one party took exception. And he admitted that, as we
have Protestants, Papists, Unitarians, Jews, Deists, etc., (not to
say Mormons and the heathen Chinese), the Bible and all its
characteristic doctrines must be excluded! It is too plain that
when the State school's creed had been pruned of every proposi-
tion to whidi any one party objected, it would be worthless and
odious in the eyes of every party, and would be too emasculated
'o do any child's soul a particle of good.

In a meeting of the Educational Association of Virginia
four years ago a pious and admirable paper was read by one
of the most eminent citizens in the State (Dr. J. B. Minor) on
this theme: "Bible instruction in schools." After some exor-
dium it begins thus : "It must be acknowledged to be one ot
the most remarkable phenomena of our perverted humanity
that among a Christian people, and in a Protestant land, such a
discussion should not seem as absurd as to inquire whether
school-rooms should be located under water or in darksome cav-
erns. The Jew, the Mohammedan, the follower of Confucius

THE 8TATB PRBE SCHOOL 8Y8TEM. 219

and of Brahma, each and all are careful to instruct the youth of
their people in the tenets of the religions they profess, and are
not content until, by direct and reiterated teaching, they have
been made acquainted with at least the outline of the books
which contain, as they believe, the revealed will of Deity.
Whence oomes it that Christians are so indifferent to a duty so
obvious, and so universally recognized by Jew and Pagan?"
The absolute necessity of Bible instruction in schools is then
argued with irresistible force. Yet, with all this, such is the
stress of the difflculty which we are pressing, it betrays this a:ble
writer into saying: "I do not ipropose to allude to the agitating
question of the introduction of the Scriptures into public
schools conducted under authority of government." But why
not? If other schools so imperatively need this element of Bi-
ble instruction, why do not the State schools? Its necessity is
argued from principles which are of universal application to
beings who have souls. Why shall not the application be made
to all schools? Alas! the answer is : the right conclusion cannot
be applied to State schools. We claim, then, this is a complete
diemonstration that the State is unfit to assume the educational
function. The argument is as plaiin and perfect as any that can
be imagined. Here is one part which is absolutely essential
to the very work of right education : the State is effectively dis-
abled from performing that part. Then, the State cannot edu-
cate, and should not profess it. The argument is parallel to
this: In order to be a country physician it is essential that <jne
shall ride in all weathers. A. cannot ride in bad weather. Then
A. cannot be a country physician, and if he is an honest man he
will not profess to be.

Whether the religious training is essential to all right edu-
cation, let us hear a few more witnesses. Said Daniel Webster,
in the Girard will-case, commenting on the exclusion of clergy-
men from the proposed orphan college: "In what age, by what
sect, where, when, by whom, has religious truth been excluded
from the education of youth? Nowhere; never. Everywhere,
and at all times, it has been and is regarded as essential. It is
of the essence, the vitality of useful instruction " Says Sir
Henry Bulwer: "I do not place much confidence in the phil-
osopher wto pretends that the knowledge which develops the
passions is an instrument for their suppression, or that where

220 THE STATU! fBEE SCHOOL SYSTEM.

there are the most desires there is likely to be the most order
and the most abstinence in their gratification." The historian
Froude (a witness by no means friendly to orthodoxy), quoting
Miss Nightingale, a philanthropist as Christian as wise, em-
phatically endorses her opinion, that the ordinary and natural
effect of the communication of secular knowledge to youths
whose destiny is labor is only to sugges.t the desire for illicit
objects of enjoyment. Saye Dr. Francis Way land: "Intellec-
tual cultivation may easily exist without the existence of virtue
or love of right. In this case its only effect is to stimulate de-
sire; and this unrestrained by the love of right must eventually
overturn the social fabric which is at first erected." Hear John
Locke : "It is virtue, then, direct virtue, which is the hard and
valuable part to be aimed at in education. * * * If virtue
and a well-tempered soul be not got and settled so as to keep
out ill and vicious habits, languages, and science, and all the
other accomplishments of education, will be to no purpose iut
to make the worse or more dangerous man"

We propose now to substantiate these views of the wise
and experienced, by arguing that tuition in Christianity is es-
sential to all education which is worth the name. And we claim
more than the admission that each man should at some stage
of his training, and by somebody, be taught Christianity; we
mean in the fullest sense that Christianity must be a present
element of all the training at all times, or else it is not true and
valuable education. Some one may say that this broad propo-
sition is refuted at the outset by frequent instances of persons
who received, at least during a part of their youth, a training
perfectly non-Christian, and who yet are very useful, and even
Christian citizens. The answer is easy : It is the prerogative of
a merciful Providence, and the duty of His children, to repair
the defects and misfortunes of His creatures and to bring good
out of evil. But surely this comes far short of a justification for
us if we willingly employ faulty methods which have a regular
tendency to work evil. Surely it is not our privilege to make
mischief for Grod and good Christians to repair!

Let the candid reader, then, ponder the weight of these
facts. The human spirit is a monad, a single, unit, spiritual
substance, having facilities and susceptibilities for different
modifications, but no parts. Hence, when it is educated it is

THB STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 22l

educated as a unit. The moral judgments and acts of the soul
all involve an exercise of reason; so that it is Impossible to sep-
arate the ethical and intellectual functions. The conscience is
the supreme, directive faculty of the soul; so that knowledge
bears to moral action the relation of means to end. Man fulfills
the ends of his existence, not by right cognitions, but by right
moral actions. Hence we are obviously correct in holding that
the fundamental value of right cognitions is simply as they are
the means of right moral acts — that is, tlte knowledge is really
valuable only as it is in order to right actions. Again : The na-
ture of responsibility is such that there can be no neutrality, or
tertium quid, between duty and sin. "He that is not with his
God is against him." He who does not positively comply with
the ever-present obligation does ipso facto violate it, and con-
tract positive sinfulness. Hence as there cannot be in any soul
a non-Christian state which is not anti-Christian, it follows that
any training which attempts to be nonnGhristian is there-
fore anti-Christian. God is the rightful, supreme mas-
ter and owner of all reasonable creatures, and their
nearest and highest duties are to him. Hence to train
a soul away from him is a robbery of God, which he cannot
justify in any person or agency whatsoever. He has not, in-
deed, committed to the State the duty ©f leading souls to him
as its appropriate task. This is committed to the family and to
his church. Yet it does iby ao means follow that the State may
do anything tending to the opposite. The soul is essentially ac-
tive, and every human being in his active powers of moral de-
sire, volition and habit, is unavoidably exercising himself.
Hence, whatever omission or neglect may be practiced as to the
formation of a character, every character does inevitably form
itself, for evil if not for giood! Remember, also, that evil ex-
ample is omnipresent in the world, and the disposition to re-
spond to it is innate in every child. How obvious, then, that a
"let-alone policy" as to the moral development must, to a great-
er or less degree, amount to a positive development of vicious
character? Not to row is, itself, to float down the stream. Once
more: the discipline of one set of faculties may leave other
faculties inert and undeveloped. This result is, then, more than
a negative mischief, because the balance or proportion of the
character is then more perverted. Should the branches and

222 THE STATE FEEE SCHOOL SYSTEM.

leaves of a tree eontinue to grow while the roots remained sta-
tionary it would result in the destruction of the tree, and this
although the roots contracted no positive disease or weakness.
The first gale would blow it over in consequence of the dispro-
portion of its parts. In this view the conclusion cited above
from Sir H. Bulwer and Mr. Froude is seen to be perfectly just.
With the increase of knowledge temptations must increase.
Wider circles of imagined enjoyments are opened to the de-
sires, so that if the virtuous habitude is not correspondingly
strengthened, criminal wishes and purposes will be the sure re-
sult. He who has criminal purposes is, moreover, by his knowl-
edge equipped with more power to execute them. Locke's con-
clusion is just. In the words of Dr. GrifBn, to educate the mind
without purifying the heart is but "to place a sharp sword in
the hand of a madman." Our last proposition of these premises
is that practically the Bible is the source and rule of moral ob-
ligation in this land. By this we do not mean to decide that
even an atheist, mot to say a disibeliever in inspiration, might
not be still obliged from his principles to recognize the impera-
tive force of conscience in his own reason, if he would philoso-
phize correctly. But practically few do recognize and obey con-
science except those who recognize the authority of the Bible.
This book is, in point of fact, the source from which the Amer-
ican people draw their sense of obligation, and of its metes and
bounds, so far as they have any. This is especially true of chil-
dren. Orant the inspiration of the Bible, and we have a basis
of moral appeal so simple and strong that practically all other
bases are comparatively worthless, especially for the young. Its
moral histories have an incompatible adaptation to the popular
and the juvenile mind. The Bible alone applies to the heart and
conscience with any distinct certainty the great forces of future
rewards and punishments and the powers of the world to come.
And, above all, it alone provides the purifying influences of re-
demption.

There can be, therefore, no true education without moral
culture, and no true moral culture without Christianity. The
very power of the teacher in the school-room is either moral or
it is a degrading, brute force. But he can show the child no
other moral basis for it than the Bible. Hence my argument
is as perfect as clear. The teacher must be Christian. But the

THB STATE FREE SCHOOL STSTBM. 223

American Oommonwealth has promised to have no religious
character. Then it cannot be teacher. If it undertalies to be, it
must be consistent, and go on and unite Church and State. Are
you ready to follow your opinions to this consistent end?

Since religious education is so essential a part, it is obvious
that a wise Providence must have allotted the right and duty of
giving it to some other of the independent spheres between
which he has distributed the social interests of man. This duty
rests with the parent. Such is the Protestant doctrine — ^the
Bible doctrine. Neither State nor Church are to usurp it; but
both are to enlighten, encourage and assist the parent in his
inalienable task.

A feeble attempt has been made to escape this fatal objec-
tion by saying: Let the State schools teach secular knowledge,
and let the parents, in other places and times, supplement this
with such religious knowledge as they please and by the help
of such Church as may please them. The fatal answers are:
Ist. The secular teacher depends for the very authority to
teach upon the Bible. 2d. The exclusion of the Bible would
put a stigma on it in the child's mind which the parent cannot
afterwards remove. 3d. How can .one teach history, ethics, psy-
chology, cosmogony, without implying some religious opinions?
4th, and chiefly : The parents who are too poor, ignorant, and
delinquent to secure their children secular schooling will, by
the stronger reason, be sure to neglect their religious education.
But these are the parents whose deficiencies give the sole pre-
text for the State's interference, so that the one-sided training
which the State leaves merely secular will remain so in all these
cases. But these cases give to the State common school its sole
raison d'etre.

I conclude, therefore, that in a country like America, at
least, your favorite system is inapplicable, and will work only
mischief. Our old Virginia system, besides its economy, has
these great logical advantages: that it leaves to parents, with-
out usurpation, their proper function as creators or electors of
their children's schools, and that it thus wholly evades the re-
ligious question, which is, to you, insoluble. Government is not
the creator but the creature of human society. The Grovem-
ment has no mission from God to make the community; on the
contrary, the community should make the Government. What

224 THE STATE FREE SOHOOL 8YSTKM.

the community shall be is determined by Providence, where it is
happily determined by far other causes than the meddling of
governments- — by historical causes in the distant past — by viftal
ideas propagated by great individual minds— especially by the
Church and its doctrines. The only communities which have
had their characters manufactured for them by their govern-
ments have had a villainously bad character — like
the Chinese and the Yankees. Noble races make their gov-
ernments; ignffble ones are made by them.
I remain your very obedient servant,

B. L. DABNEY.

SECULARIZED EDUCATION/

Who is the agent entitled to control education? What is
right education? These questions are interdependent. Two
answers have been proposed tD the first in" history: The State,
the Church. In Europe, Liberalism says the State, and insists
on secularizing education, hy which it means its release from
the control of popery. Liherals see clearly that, under that
control, there will (be no true freedom. But, as they also in-
sist on secularizing the State, their idea of a free education is
of one devoid of religion, separating the mental from the spir-
itual culture. Thus they conclude that education must he God-
less, in order to he free. Rome has herself to hlame for this
error, as fot most of European scepticism. She claims that she
alone is Christian : independent minds reply, "Then Christian-
ity is evil." So if her education were the only Christian, free-
men would have to reject Christian education. If private judg-
ment is sin; if the hierarchy is the Church; if the teacher is a
real priest and essential "proxy" hetweeli men and salvation;
if his teaching is infallihle ; if the real end of the culture ig to
enslave the soul to a priesthoDd with a foreign head ; if that head
is ahsolutely superior to the secular sovereignty, such ecclesias-
tical education will be civil slavery. It is not strange that men
seeking civil liberty spurn it.

The mistake is in confounding ecclesiastical with Christian
education. Let the Scripture he heard : "The kingdom of God
is within yon," consisting, not in a greedy hierarchy, hut in
the rule of Truth; the clergy are not lords over God's heritage,
hut only "ministers ihy whom we helieve"; it has no penalties
hut the spiritual, reaching no man's civil rights ; its only other
function is didactic, and its teaching only hinds so far as the
layman's own CDnscience responds; it is the Church's duty to
instruct parents how God would hav e them rear their children,

1— Appeared In IMb^i Princelon SevUw. ^^

226 SEO0LAB1ZE1) BDUOATIOK.

and enforce the duty by spiritual sanctions; but there its of-
ficial power ends. It does not usurp the doing of the important
task it inculcates. As a Christian private man the minister
lends other parents his knowledge and virtues tD oo-operate in
their work. But all this implies no danger either to spiritual or
religious liberty.

But it will be well for the modern Liiberal to pause and ask
whether he secures anything by this transfer of the educating
function from Church to State? Does he pDint to the results
of Jesuit teaching, spurious, shallow scholarship, an enslaved
and morbid conscience, which dares not even wish to break its
fetters, the insatiable greed of the hierarchy for influence and
money, the hateful perversion of the sacred task to inspire false-
hood and prejudice for this end? The picture is suflBciently
repulsive. But are only ecclesiastics grasping? Is human na-
ture depraved? Is it essentially the same in all men? Then
why are they not to be expected to act in similar ways, when
subjected to the same temptations? And the modern Liberal
is the last man to overlook this truth; since he is sceptical of all
professions of spiritual principles in clergymen, and prone to
ascribe secular motives. He should, then, expect the dema-
gogue to show a misguided ambition exactly Uke the priests.
What is the hierarch but a ghostly demagogue? The dema-
gogue is but the hierarch of Mammon's altar. Does he not, for
instance, pervert that other educating agency, the press, just as
violently as the Jesuit the school? Now, let him become ruler
in the State and the State become educator; and there is just
the same risk that the education of youth will be perverted to
subserve a faction, and that, by the hateful means of imbuing
their minds with error and passion in place of truth and right.
The result is despotism of a party instead of a pope. One may
be as bad as the other.

But if the State is the educator, in America, at least, educa-
tion must Ibe secularized totally. In theory our State is the in-
atitute for realising secular Justice. It has absolutely severed
itself from all religions equally; has pledged itself that no man's
civil rights shall be modified or equality diminished by any re-
ligion or the lack of any; and has forbidden the establishment
of any religion by law, and the imposition of any burden for a
religious pretext on any. But the State school teacher is her

SEOULARtZED EDtTOATION. 337

official, and teaches by her authority. All schoel-offlcials derive
their authority from State laws, hence all their functions are as
truly State actions as those at the sheriff in hanging, or the
judge in sentencing a murderer. Especially is the school fund,
raised by taxation, the common and equal property of the peo-
ple.

But as our people are divided among many religions, that
money ought no more to be used in schools to teach one religion
in preference to the others, than in a church establishment. Once
the people of a small State, like ODunectieut, were so homoge-
neous, that any dissentient minority was minute, and the dom-
inant religion was taught "on State account," without any
protest loud enough to be inconvenient. But the mixture of
our people, and especially the strength and audacity of popery,
now makes all this different. Papists make an effective issue,
arguing that the State must not use the people's money to teach
King James's version, which they, a part of the people, believe
heretical. Zealous PrDtestants, usually zealous State school
men, try to flout this plea. But would they assent to the State's
teaching their children, with their money, the version which
says: "Except ye do penance ye shall all likewise perish?"
They exclaim: "That is an erroneous Version, while King
James's is faithful." Theologically that is doubtless true. But
the very point of the State's covenant with the people is, that
the State shall not judge, either way, of that proposition. It has
been bargained that, in the State arena, we shall respect papists'
religious views, precisely as we require them to respect otirs.
Suppose them, some day, in as large a majority in some State
as PrDtestants are in New England, would we acquiesce in their
forcing the study of the Douay version in State schools? Sd,
unless we admit that our might makes our right, we ought not
to inflict the parallel wrongs on the Jews, Mohammedans, Athe-
ists, and Buddhists among us, because they are still few.

It is sought to parry this conclusion thus: While all re-
ligions are equal, and no one established, the State is not an
atheistic institute, but must ground itself in the will of G-Dd,
which is the standard of all rights. That the State is an ethical
institute and for ethical ends. That hence it enjoins the Sab-
bath, punishes blasphemy, etc. That equally the State, while
not establishing one religion to the prejudice of others, ought

228 sx:odlabizi:d education.

to teach the divine truths common to all, by the unsectarian
use of the Bible. But, whether this be the just basis of a com-
monwealth or not, onr States do not avow it. And second, the
question is not of the original Scripture in common schools, but
of some one version, among other competing ones, which even
Protestants do not claim to be infallible. Hence the question.
Which version? raises sectarian issues. Third, we do not be-
lieve, any more than these reasoners, that the State can be athe-
istic, because it is an ethical institute, and the divine will is the
only valid ethical rule. But the State finds the theistic basis
in natural theology. The proof is, that pagan States, resting
only on natural theism, were valid, and rightfully (Rom. 13: 5)
possessed the allegiance even of Christians. The evasion there-
fore is futile.

But be the logic of this question what it may, the actual
result is certain. The papists will inevitably carry the point,
as they have already done in many places. That they will
triumph everywhere else that they care to try, is plain from the
growing timidity of the Bible advocates, the poverty of the com-
promises they offer, and the spreading indifference of the masses
to the value of biblical teaching. In fact, on American prem-
ises, the Bible advocates have no plea but a pious predilection,
and sooner or later logical considerations, when so clear, must
assert their force. The difficulty of the problem aippears thus :
That it agitates other free governments than ours, as the Brit-
ish and Holland, at this day.

For the solution there are, on the theory of State education,
four suggestions. The first is the unjust one of forcing the relig-
ion of the majority on the minority. The second is what is
called in Great Britain the plan of "concurrent endowments."
Each denomination may have its own schools endowed by the
State, and teach its own religion in it along with secular learn-
ing. This is virtually the plan by which New York papists have
been partially appeased. It is justly rejected by Protestants
everywhere. First, because it offers no solution save where
the several denominations are populous enough to sustain a
school for each in the same vicinage. Second, because the
State has no right thus virtually to assert the co-ordinate and
eqnal value of opposing creeds, the truth of one of which may
imply the positive falsehood of another. Third, because the

SJSOULABIZED EDUCATION. 229

State has no right to indicate of either of the creeds that it is,
or is not, true and valuable. Fourth, because Pnotestantism is
more promotive of thrift and wealth than the erroneous creeds;
whence a given number of Protestants will pay more school-tax
than the same number of errorists, so that this plan uses a part
of their money to foster creeds they conscientiously believe
mischievous. Fifth, it gives to error a pecuniary and moral
suppDrt beyond what it would receive from the spontaneous
zeal of its votaries. And last, it disunites the population by
training youth in hostile religious camps. Irish and American
papists have professed to approve because they gain by the plan.
But who dreams that if they were in the majority they would
be willing to see "good Catholic money" expended in teaching
Protestant heresy?

The third plan proposes to give "unsectarian" religious in-
struction in the first hour of the day, while parents who dissent
from it are allowed to detain their children from school until
that hour is passed. This amounts to the State's establishing
a religion and using the people's money to teach it, but per-
mining dissent without any other penalty than the taxation for
a religious object which the taxpayer condemns. That is to
say, it places the matter where England places her established
reiigion, since the "Toleration Act" of William and Mary re-
licvi.i', dissenters of penal pains for absence from the Anglican
churches. But the thing Americans claim is //i«»'/>' and not tol-
eration. They deny the State's right to select a religion, as
the true and useful one, for anylbody, willing or unwilling.
Those who dissent from the selected religion deny that the
State may thus expend the people's money as a bait to careless
or erroneous parents to submit their children to the inculcation
3f error.

The only other alternative is to secularize the State's teach-
ing absolutely, limiting it to matters merely secular, and leav-
ing parents or the Church to supplement it with such religious
teaching as they may please, or none. Some Christians, driven
by the difficulty which has been disclosed, adopt this conclu-
sion. The largest number, notwithstanding the difBculty, reject
it with energy. Let us see whether this plan is either possible
or admissible.

This is really the vital question. It cannot be discussed

230 SECDLABIZED EDUCATION.

until we agree what education is, and disperse deceptive mis-
conceptions of it. It is properly the whole man or person that
is educated; but the main subject of the work is the spirit.
Education is the nurture and development of the whole man for
his proper end. Tlie end must be conceived aright in order to
understand the process. Even man's earthly end is predomin-
antly moral. Now, if dexterity in any art, as in the handling
of printer's type, a musket, a burin, a power-loom, were educa-
tion, its secularization might be both possible and proper. Is
not a confusion here the source of most of the argument in de-
fense of that theory? For instance, "Why may not the State
teach reading and writing without any religious adjuncts, as
legitimately as the mechanic thus teaches his apprentices filing,
planing, or hammering?" Because dexterity in an art is not
education. The latter nurtures a soul, the other only drills a
.sense-organ or muscle; the one has a mechanical end, the other
a moral. And this answer cannot be met by saying, "Let it
then be agreed that the State is only teaching an art, a dexter-
ity — that, for instance, of letters." For the State refuses to be
understood thus : it claims io educate; as is witnessed by the uni-
versal argument of the advocates of this State function, that
she has the right and duty of providing that the young citizens
shall be competent to their responsibility as citizens. But thesfe
are ethical. Again, if the State professed to bestow, not an
education, but a dexterity, equity would require her bestowing
not only the arts of letters, but all other useful arts. For only
the minority can ever live by literary arts; the great majority
of children have equal rights to be taught the other bread-win-
ning arts. Thus government would become the wildest com-
munism. No, the State cannot adopt this evasion; unless she
says that she educates, she can say nothing.

It should also be remarked here that the arts of reading and
writing are rather means of education than education itself, and
not the only nor the most effective means. As Macaulay
showed, against Dr. S. Johnson, the unlettered part of the
Athenians were, in some respects, highly educated, while we see
many minds, with these arts, really undeveloped.

But is a really secularized education either possible or ad-
missible?

First, No people of any age, religion, or civilization, before

SJEODLAKIZED EDUCATION. 231

ours, has ever thought so. Against the present attempt, right
or wrong, stands the whole common sense of mankdind. Pagan,
Papist, Mohammedan, Greek, Protestant, have all hitherto re-
jected any other education than one grounded in religion, as a.h-
surd and wicked. Let Mr. Webster he heard against the Gi-
rard will, which enjoined, in order to exclude Christianity from
his college, that no minister should ever enter its walls. The
argument against the will here was, that the trust it proposed
to create was, in this, so opposed to all civilized jurisprudence,
as to make it outside the law, and so void- So formidable did
the point seem to lawyers, that Mr. Horace Binney, of the de-
fense, went to England to ransack the British laws of trusts.
It was in urging this point that Mr. Webster uttered the mem-
orable words:

"In what age, by what sect, where, when, by whom, has
religious truth heen excluded from the education of youth?
Nowhere. Never! Everywhere, and at all times, it has been
regarded as essential. // is of the essence, the vitality of useful
instruction?'' And this was not the assertion of Mr. Wehster,
the politician, hut of the learned lawyer, face to face with able
opponents, and making one of the most responsihle forensic
efforts of his life. He knew that he was uttering the weighty
voice of history and jurisprudence.

Let another witness he heard, of equal learning and super-
ior character.* "It must be acknowledged to te one of the
most remarkahle phenomena of our perverted humanity, that
among a Christian people, and in a Protestant land, such a dis-
cussion" (whether the education of youth may not he secular-
ized) "should not seem as ahsurd as to inquire whether school-
rooms should be located under water or in darksome caverns!
The Jew, the Mohammedan, the follower of Confucius, and of
Brahma, each and all are careful to instruct the youth of their
people in the tenets of the religions they profess, and are not
content until, by direct and reiterated teaching, they have been
made acquainted with at least the outline of the books which
contain, as they believe, the revealed will of Deity. Whence
comes it that Christians are so indifferent to a duty so obvious,
and so ohviously recognized hy Jew and Pagan?"
We are attempting then an ahsolute novelty. But may not

•John B. Minor, LL. D., UulYerelty of Virginia.

232 SEOULAEIZED EDUCATION.

the tree be already knawn by its fruits? State educatiDn •among
Americans tends to be entirely secularized. What is the result?
Whence this general revolt from, the Christian faith in this
country, so full of churches, preachers, and a redundant Chris-
tian literature, so boastful of its Sabbaths and its evangelism?
What has prepared so many for the dreary absurdities of mate-
rialism? Why do the journals which seek a national circulatiDn
think it their interest to affect irreligion? Why so many lamen-
tations over public and popular corruptions? He who notes
the current of opinion sees that the wisest are full of misgivings
as to the fruits of present methods. As a specimen, let these
words, from the Governor of Massachusetts, at a recent anni-
versary, be taken: "He" (Gov. Rice) "lifted up a warning
voice, with respect to the inadequacy and perils of our modern
system of one-sided education, which supposed it could develop
manhood and good citizenship out of mere brain culture."

Second, True education is, in a sense, a spiritual process,
the nurture of a soul. By spiritual, the divines mean the acts
and states produced by the Holy Ghost, as distinguished from
the merely ethical. The nurture of these is not human educa-
tion, but sanctification. Yet education is the nurture of a spirit
which is rational and moral, in which conscience is the regula-
tive and imperative faculty; whose prDper end, even in this
world, is moral. But God is the only Lord of the conscience ;
this soul is his miniature likeness ; his will is the source of obli-
gation to it; likeness to him is its perfection, and religion is the
sciefice of the soul's relations to God. Let these statements be
placed together, and the theological and educational processes
appear so cognate that they cannot be separated. Hence it is
that the common sense of mankind has ever invoked the guid-
ance of the minister of religion for the education of youth; in
India the Brahmin, in Turkey the Imam, in Jewry the Rabbi,
and in Christian lands the pastor. So, everywhere, the sacred
boDks have always been the prime text-books. The only excep-
tion in the world is that which Rome has made for herself by
her intDlerable abuse of her powers. Does the secularist an-
swer that this sacerdotal education results in a Boeotian char-
acter and puerile culture? Yes, where the sacred books are
false Scriptures, but not where it is the Bible which is the text-
book. So that these instances prove that the common sense of

SEOTILARIZED EDPOATION. 233

mankind has been at bottom correct, and has only been abused
in some instances, iby imposture.

The soul is a spiritual monad, an indivisible, spiritual unit,
without parts, as without extension. Those powers, which we
name as separate faculties, are only modes of function with
which this unit is qualified, differentiated by the distinctiDns of
the objects on which they operate. The central power is still
one. From these truths it would appear that it cannot be suc-
cessfully cultivated by patches. We cannot have tiie intellectual
workman polish it at one place, and the spiritual at another. A
succession of objects may be presented t9 the soul, to evoke
and discipline its several powers; yet the unity of the being
would seem to necessitate a unity in its successful culture.

It is the Christian ideas which are most stimulating and en-
nabling to the soul. He who must needs omit them from his
teaching is robbed of the right arm of his strength. Where
shall he get such a definition of virtue as is presented in the
revealed character of God? Where so ennobling a picture of
benevolence as that presented in Christ's sacrifice for his ene-
mies? Can the conception of the inter-stellar spaces so ex-
pand the mind as the thought of an infinite God, an eternal
existence, and an everlasting destiny?

Every line of true knowledge must find its completeness in
its oonvergency to God, even as every (beam of daylight leads
the eye to the sun. If religion be excluded from our study, ev-
ery process of thought will be arrested before it reaches its
proper g3al. The structure of thought must remain a truncated
cone, with its proper apex lacking. Richard Baxter has ner-
vously expressed this truth.*

Third, If secular education is to be made consistently and
honestly non-Christian, then all its more important branches
must be omitted, or they must submit to a mutilation and falsi-
fication, far worse than absolute omission. It is hard to con-
ceive how a teacher is to keep his covenant faithfully with the
State so to teach history, cosmogony, psychology, ethics, the
laws of nations, as to insinuate nothing favorable or unfavor-
able touching the preferred beliefs of either the evangelical
Christians, Papists, Socinians, Deists, Pantheists, Materialists,
or Fetisch worshippers, who claim equal rights under American

•"Reformed Pastor " pp. 94, 96.

234 SEOULABIZED EDUOATIOK.

institutions. His paedagogics must indeed be "the play of
Hamlet, with the part of Hamlet omitted." Shall the secular
education leave the young citizen totally ignorant of his own
ancestry? But how shall he learn the story of those struggles,
through which Englishmen achieved those liberties which the
colonies inherited, without understanding the flery persecutions
of the Protestants under "Bloody Mary," over which the
Pope's own Legate, Cardinal Pole, was sent to preside?
How shall the S'ons of Huguenot sires in New York, Virginia,
or Carolina know for what their fathers forsook beautiful
France, to hide themselves in the Northern snows or the mala-
rious woods of the South, and read nothing of the violation of
the "Edict of Nantes," the "Dragonnades," and the wholesale
assassination of St. Bartholoiliew's day, in honor of which an
"infallible" predecessor of the Pope sang Te Deums and struck
medals? Or, if the physicist attempt to ascend farther in man's
history, can he give the gienesis of earth and man, without in-
timating' whether Moses or Huxley is liis prophet? Or can the
science of moral obligation be established in impartial oversight
of God's relation to it, and of the question whether or not his
will defines and grounds all human duty? Or can a Grotius or
a Vattel settle the rights of nature and nations without either
affirming along *ith the Apostles that "God hath made of one
blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the
earth, and hath determined the times ibefore appointed and the
bounds of their habitation," or else denying it with the infldel
ethnologist? How much of the noblest literature must be os-
tracized, if this plan is to be honestly carried out? The State
teacher must not mention to his pupil Shakespeare, nor Bacon,
nor Milton, nor Macaulay. The E xpurgatotius of free
democracy will be far more stringent than that of despotic
Rome! But it is not necessary to multiply these instances.
They show that Ghristian truths and facts are so woven into the
very warp and *oof of the knowledge of Americans, and con-
stitute so beneficial and essential a part of our civilization, that
the secular teacher, who impartially avoids either the affirma-
tion or denial of them, must reduce his teaching to the bare giv-
ing of those scanty rudiments, which are, as we have seen, not
knowledge, but the mere signs of knowledge.

Does some one say that practically this showing is exagger-

SECULARIZED EDUCATION. 235

ated, for he is teaching some purely secular course, without any
such maiming of his subjects or prejudicing of Christianity? If
his teaching is more than a temporary dealing with some cor-
ner of education, the fact will be found to be that it is tacitly
anti-Christian; overt assaults are not made; but there is a
studied avoidance which is in effect hostile. There can be no
neutral position between two extremes, where there is no middle
ground, but "a great gulf fixed."

Fourth, Of all rightful human action the will is the execu-
tive and the conscience the directive faculty. Unless these be
purified and enlightened, to enhance the vigor of the soul's
other actions by training is but superfluous mischief. If in a
ship the compass be lost and the pilot blind, it is better that
there should not be a great force to move her machinery. The
more energetic its motion, the greater is the likelihood the ship
will speedily be upon the breakers. Surely this is sufficient to
show to the reflecting mind that right moral inculcation can-
not be separated at any point or for any time from the intel-
lectual, without mischief.

One very obvious and yet not the weighiest application of
this truth is to the discipline of the school itself. No training
of any faculty takes place without some government. On what
moral basis shall the teacher who wholly suppresses all appeal
to religion rest that authority which he must exercise in the
school-room? He will find it necessary to say to the pupil,
"Be diligent. Be obedient. Lie not. Defraud not," in order
that he may learn his secular knowledge. But on whose stu-
thority? There is but one ground of moral obligation, the will
of God, and among the people of this country he who does not
find the disclosure of that will in the Scriptures, most often
finds it nowhere. But this teacher must not inculcate this
Bible. Then Ms mere might must make his right, or else the
might of the iparent, or of the magistrate, to whose delegated
authority he points back. Or his appeal may be to mere self-
interest!

Will this government be wholesome for a youth's soul?

But from a pupil the youth becomes a citizen. He passes
under wider and more complex obligations. The end of the
State schooling is to fit him for this. The same question re-
curs, with transcendent moment, On what basis of right shall

236 SEOULABIZED XDUOATION-

these duties rest? As a man, it is presumable he will act as he
was taught while a boy. Of course then the grounds of obliga-
tion employed with him in school should be the ones he is tD
recognize in adult life. In the State school a non-Christian
standard alone could be given him. He cannot be expected
now to rise to any better; he may sink to a lower, seeing the
ground then given him had no foundation under it.

That is to say, young Americans are to assume their respon-
sibilities with pagan morals, for these are just what human rea-
son attains from the non-Christian standard. Will this suf-
fice to sustain American institutions? One may say: Natural
theism may deduce quite a high ethical code, as witness the
Greek philosophy. So could a man who rightly construed the
data of his consciousness be an atheist; even the atheist might
find in them proof that conscience ought to govern. But he
does not, nor does the pagan reason act as Epictetus specu-
lated .Let us begin to legislate for the people as they ought to
be, and we shall have a fine card-castle. In fact, Americans,
taken as we find them, who do not get their moral restraints
from' the Bible, have none. If, in our moral training of the
young, we let go the "Thus saith the LDrd," we shall have no
hold left. The training wliich does not base duty on Christian-
ity is, for us, practically immoral. If testimony to this truth
is needed, let the venerable Dr. GriflBn, of a former generation,
be heard. "To educate the mind of a bad man without correct-
ing his morals is to put a sword into the hands of a maniac."
Let*John Locke be heard. "It is virtue, then, direct virtue,
which is the hard and valuable part to be aimed at in educa-
tion." ••••••• "If virtue and a well-tempered soul be not

got and settled so as to keep out ill and vicious habits, lan-
guages and science, and all the other accomplishments of edu-
cation, will be to no purpose but to make the worse or more dan-
gerous man." Let Dr. Francis Wayland be heard. "Intel-
lectual cultivation may easily exist without the existence of
virtue or love of right. In this case its only effect is to stim-
ulate desire; and this, unrestrained by the love of right, must
eventually overturn the social fabric which it at first erected."
Last, let Washington be heard, in his farewell address, where
he teaches that the virtue of the citizens is the only basis for

8KO0LARIZED BD0OATION. 237

social safety, and that the Christian religion is the only ade-
quate basis for that virtue.

But, is not mental culture per se elevating? It is hard for
us to give up this flattery, because hitherto education has been
more or less Christian. The minister has been the American
school-master. But are not the educated the more elevated?
Yes. For the reason just given, and for another; not that their
mental culture made them seek higher morals, but their (and
their parents') higher morals made them seek mental culture!
We are prone to put the cart before the horse. Again I cite
evidence. James Anthony Froude, a witness by no means
friendly to orthodoxy, quoting Miss Florence Nightingale, em-
phatically endorses her .opinion, that the ordinary, as the nat-
ural effect of the mere communication of secular knowledge to
youths, is only to suggest the desire for more numerous, and,
for the bulk of men whose destiny is inevitably narrow, illicit
objects of desire. But they plead: In teaching the youth to
know of more objects of desire you also teach him to know more
restraining considerations. The fatal answer is that knowledge
does not rule the heart, but conscience (if anything does); 'mere
knowledge, without God's fear, makes desire grow faster than
discretion. Says Sir Henry Bulwer: "I do not place much con-
fidence in the philosopher who pretends that the knowledge
which develops the passions is an instrument for their suppres-
sion, or that where there are the most desires there is likely
to be the most order, and the most abstinence in their gratifica-
tion." Again, the soul should grow symmetrically. Let the
boughs of a tree grow, while the roots (without actual disease)
stand still; the first gale would blow it over, because of the die-
proportion of its parts.

Fifth, We need the best men to teach our children. The
best are true Christians, who carry their religion into every-
thing. Such men neither can nor will bind themselves to hold
so influential a relation to precious souls for whom Christ died,
and make no effort to save them. So the tendency must be
towards throwing State schools into the hands of half-hearted
Christians or of contemptuous unbelievers. Can such be even
trusted with an important secular task? Railroads persist in
breaking the Sabbath; so they must be served on the track ex-
clusively by profane Sabbath-breakers or truckling professors

238 SECtJLAEIZED EDtrCATlON.

•of religion. The consequence is, they are scourged with negli-
gent officials, drunken engineers, and defaulting cashiers. So the
State will fall into the hands of teachers who will not even teach
secular learning honestly; money will be wasted, and the schools
will become corrupting examples to their own pupils of slight-
ed work and abused trusts.

Sixth, To every Christian citizen, the most conclusive argu-
ment against a secularized education is contained in his own
creed touching human resiponsibility. According to this, obli-
gation to Grod covers all of every man's being and actions. Eren
if the act be correct in outward form, which is done without
any reference to his will, he will judge it a shortcoming. "The
ploughing of the wicked is sin." The intentional end to which
our action is directed determines its moral complexion su-
premely. Second, Our Savior has declared that there is
no moral neutrality: "He that is not with him is against him,
and he that gathereth not with him scattereth abroad." Add
now the third fact, that every man is born in a state of
alienation from Grod; that practical enmity and atheism are the
natural outgrowth of this disposition; that the only remedy
for this natural disease of man's spirit is gospel truth. The com-
parison of these truths will make it perfectly plain that a non--
Chrislian training is literally an anti Christian training.

This is the conclusive argument. The rejoinder is at
tempted; that Christians hold this theology as church mem-
bers, and not as citizens; and that we have ourselves urged that
the State is not an evangelical agent, and its proper business is
not to convert souls from original sin. True, but neither has it
a right to become an anti-evangelical agency, and resist the
work of the spiritual commonwealth. While the State does not
authorize the theological beliefs of the Christian citizens, neith-
er has it a right to war against them. While we have no right
to ask the State to propagate our theology, we have a right to
demand that it shall not oppose it. But to educate souls thus is
to oppose it, because a non-Christian training is an anti-Chris-
tian training. It may be urged again, that this result, if evil,
will not be lessened by the State's ceasing to teach at all, for
then the training of youth will be, so fas as she is concerned,
equally non-Christian. The answer is, that it is one thing to tol-
erate a wrong as done by a party over whom we have not law-

SEOntAKlZED EDtJOATrON. 239

ful control, hut wholly another to perpetrate that wrong our-
selves. For the State thus to do what she ought to condemn in
the godless parent, though she he not authorized to interfere
would be the sin of "framing mischief by a law," the very trait
of that "throne of iniquity" with which the Lord cannot have
fellowship.

It is ohjected again, that if the State may govern and pun-
ish, which are moral functions, she may also teach. If we are
prepared for the theocratic idea of the State, which makes it the
universal human association, To Jlav of human organisms,
hound to do everything for society from mending a road or
draining a marsh up to supporting a religion, then we can con-
clude thus. But then consistency will add to State schools a
State religion, a heneflced clergy, a religious test for office, and
State power wielded to suppress theological as well as social er-
ror. Again, while secular ruling and punishing are ethical func-
tions, they are sufficiently grounded in the light of natural the-
ism. But teaching is a sipiritual function — in the sense defined
^and for teaching heings fallen, and in moral ruin, natural the-
ism is wholly inadequate, as witness the state of pagan society.
Christian citizens are entitled (not by the State, hut hy one
higher, God) to hold that the only teaching adequate for this
fallen soul is redemption. But of this the State, as such, knows
nothing. As God's institute for realizing secular justice, she
does know enough of moral right to he a praise to them that do
well and a terror to evil-doers. ,

The most plausible evasion is this : Since education is so
comprehensive a work, why may there not he a "division of
labor?" Let the State train the intellect and the Christian
parent and the Church train the conscience and heart in the
home and the house of worship. With this solution some
Christians profess themselves satisfied. Of course such an ar-
rangement would not he so had as the neglect of the heart hy
both State and parent.

Points already made contain fatal answers. Since con-
science is the regulative faculty of all, he who must not deal
with conscience cannot deal well with any. Since the soul is a
monad, it cannot he equipped as to different parts at different
times and places, as a man might get his hat at one shop and his
boots at another; it has no parts. Since all truths converge

240 SEOTTLAEIZBD EDUCATION.

towards God, he who is not to name God, must have all his
teachings fragmentary; he can only construct a truncated fig-
ure. In history, ethics, philosophy, jurisiprudence, religious
facts and propositions are absolutely inseparable. The neces-
sary discipline of a school-room and secular fidelity of teachers
call for religion, or we miss of them. And no person nor organ-
ism has a right to seem to say to a responsible, immortal soul,
"In this large and intelligent and even ethical segment of your
doings you are entitled to be godless." Tor this teaching State
must not venture to disclaim that construction of its own pro-
ceeding to its own pupil. That disclaimer would be a religious
inculcation'.

But farther: Why do people wish the State to interfere in
educating? Because she has the power, the revenues to do it
better. Then, unless her intervention is to be a cheat, her sec-
ularized teaching must be some very impressive thing. Then
its impression, which is to be non-Christian, according to the
theory, will be too preponderant in the youth's soul, to be
counterpoised by the feebler inculcation of the seventh day.
The natural heart is carnal, and leans to the secular and away
from the gospel truths. To the ingenuous youth, quickened by
animating studies, his teaeher is Magnus Apollo, and according
to this plan he must be to his ardent young votary wholly a
heathen deity. The Christian side of the luminary, if there is
one, must not be revealed to the worshipper! Then how pale
and cold will the infrequent ray of gospel truth appear when it
falls on him upon the seventh day ! In a word, to the suc-
cessful pupil under an efficient teacher, the school is his world.
Make that godless, and his life is made godless.

If it be asked again: Why may not the State save itself
trouble by leaving all education to parents? The answer is, Be-
cause so many parents are too incapable or careless to be
trusted with the task. Evidently, if most parents did the work
well enough, the State would have no motive to meddle. Then
the very taison d'etre of the State school is in this large class
of negligent parents. But man is a carnal being, alienated from
godliness, whence all those who neglect their children's mental,
will, a fortiori, neglect their spiritual, culture. Hence we must
expect that, as to the very class which constitutes the pretext for
the State's interpoaition, the fatally one-sided culture she give

SEOtlLARtZED EDUCATION. 24l

will remain one-sidtd. She has no right t3 presume anythiu};
else. But, it may be asked: Is not there the church to take
up this part, neglected by both secularized State and godless
parent? The answer is, The State, thus secularized, cannot
claim to know the Chuch as an ally. Besides, if the Church
be found sufficiently omnipresent, willing, and efficient,
through the commonwealth, to be thus relied on, why will
she not inspire in parents and individual philanthropists zeal
enough to care for the whole education of youth? Thus again,
the whole raison d'etre for the State's intervention would be
gone. In fact the Church does not and cannot repair the mis-
chief which her more powerful, rich, and ubiquitous rival, the
secularized State, is doing in thus giving, under the guise of a
non-Christian, an anti-Christian training.

It is also well known to practical men that State common
schools obstruct parental And philanthropic effort. Thus, par-
ents who, if not meddled with, would fDllow the impulse of en-
lightened Christian neighbors, their natural guides, in creating
a private school for their children, to make it both primary and
classical, now always stop at the primary. "The school tax
must be paid anyhow, which is heavy, and that is all they can
do." Next, children of p'aor parents who showed aspiration for
learning found their opportunity for classical tuition near their
homes, in the innumerable private schools created by parental
interest and public spirit, and kindly neighborhood charity nev-
er suffered such deserving youths to be arrested for the mere
lack of tuition. Now, in country places not populous enough lo
sustain "State High Schools," all such youths, must stop at llie
rudiments. Thus the country loses a multitude of the most use-
ful educated men. Next, the best men being the natural lead-
ers of their neighbors, would draw a large part of the children
of the class next them upward into the private schools created
for their own families, which, for the same reason, were sure to
be Christian schools. The result is, that while a larger num-
ber of children is brought into primary schools, and while the
statistics of the illiterate are somewhat changed, to the great
delectation of shallow philanthropists, the number of youths
well educated in branches above mere rudiments, and especial-
ly of thoee brought under daily Christian training, is diminish-
ed. In cities (where public opinion is chiefly manufactured;

242 SEODLAEIZE© EDUCATION.

high schools may be sustained, and this evil obviated so far as
secular tuition goes. But in the vast country regions, literary
culture is lowered just as it is extended. It is chiefly the coun-
try which fills the useful professions — town youths go into
trade.

The actual and consistent secularization of education is in-
admissible.

But nearly all public men and divines declare that the State
schools are the glory of America, that they are a finality, and in
no event to be surrendered. And we have seen that their com-
plete secularization is logically inevitable. Christians must pre-
pare themselves then, for the following results: All prayers,
catechisms, and Bibles will ultimately be driven out of the
schools. But this will not satisfy Papists, who obstinately —
and correctly were their religion correct — insist that education
shall be Christian for their children. This power over the hopes
and fears of the demagogues will secure, what Protestants can-
not consistently ask for, a separate endownment out of the com-
mon funds. Rome will enjoy, relatively to Protestantism, a
grand advantage in the race of propagandism ; for humanity al-
ways finds out, sooner or later, that it cannot get ion without a
religion, and it will take a false one in preference to none. Infi-
delity and practical ungodliness will become increasingly preva-
lent among Protestant youth, and our churches will have a more
arduous contest for growth if not for existence.

^ Perhaps American Protestants might be led, not to abandon
but to revise their opinions toncliing education, by recalling the
conditions under which the theory of State education came to
be first accepted in this country. This came about in the col-
onies which at the same time held firmly to a union of Church
and State. The Massachusetts and Connecticut colonies, for
instance, honorable pioneers in State education in this country,
were decidedly theoretic in their constitution. The Reformed
religion was intimately interwoven. So all the Protestant States
of Europe, whose successful example is cited, as Scotland and
Prussia, have the Protestant as an established religion. This
and State primary education have always been parts of one con-
sistent system in the minds of their rulers in Church and State.
A secularized education, sueh as that which is rapidly becoming
the result of our State school system, would have been indig-

SECULAEIZED EDOOATION. 243

nantlj reprabated by the Winthrops and Mathers, the Knoxs,
Melvilles, and Chalmers, and, it is presumed, by the Tholucks
and even Bismarcks of those commonwealths, which are pointed
to as precedents and models. It is submitted, whether it is ex-
actly candid to quote the opinions and acts of all these great
men, for what is, in fact, another thing from what they advo-
cated? Knox, for instance, urged the primary education of
every child in Scotland lay the State. But it was because the
State he had helped to reconstruct there was clothed with a
recognized power of teaching the Reformed religion (through
the allied Church), and because it was therefore able, in teaching
the child to read, also to teach it the Scriptures and the Assem-
bly's Catechism. Had Knox seen himself compelled to a sever-
ance of Church and State (which he would have denounced
as wicked and paganish), and therefore to the giving by the
State of a secularized education, which trained the intellect
without the conscience or heart, his heroic tongue would have
given no uncertain sound. Seeing then that wise and good men
in adopting and successfully working this system, did so only for
communities which united Church and State, and mental and
spiritual training, the question for candid consideration is:
What modifications the theory should receive, when it is im-
ported into commonwealths whose civil governments have ab-
solutely secularized then^selves and made the union of the sec-
ular and spiritual powers illegal and impossible?

The answer may, perhaps, be found by going back to a first
principle hinted in the outset of this discussion. Is the direc-
tion of the education of children either a civic or an ecclesiasti-
cal function? Is it not properly a domestic and parental func-
tion? First, we read in holy writ that God ordained the family
by the union of one woman to one man, in one flesh, for life, for
the declared end of "seeking a godly seed." Does not this imply
that he looks to parents, in whom the family is founded, as the
responsible agents of this result? He has also in the fifth Com-
mandment connected the child proximately, not with either
presbyter or magistrate, but with the parents, which, of course,
confers on them the adequate and the prior authority. This ar-
gument appears again in the very order of the historical gene-
sis of the family and State, as well as of the visible Church. The
family was first. Parents at the outset were the only social

344 SEOtTLAKlZED EDUCATION.

heads existing. The right rearing of children by them was in
order to the right creation of the other two institutes. It thus
appears that naturally the parents' auhority over their children
could not have come by deputation from either State or visible
Church, any lUDre than the water in a fountain by derivation
from its reservoir below. Second, the dispensation of Divine
Providence in the course of nature shows where the power and
duty of educating are deposited. That ordering is that the par-
««/* decide in what status the child shall begin his adult career.
The son inherits the fortune, the social pasition, the responsibil-
ty, or the ill-fame of his father. Third, God has provided for the
parents social and moral influencesso unique, so extensive, that
no other earthly power, or all others together, can substitute
them in fashioning the child's character. The home example,
armed with the venerable authority of the father and the moth-
er, repeated amidst the constant intimacies of the fireside, sec-
onded by filial reverence, ought to have the most potent plastic
force over character. And this unique power Grod has guarded
by an affection, the strangest, most deathless, and most unself-
ish, which remains in the breast of fallen man. Until the mag-
istrate can feel a love, and be nerved by it to a self-denying care
and toil, equal to that of a father and a mother, he can show no
pretext for assuming any parental function.

But the best argument here is the heart's own instinct. No
parent can fail ta resent, with a righteous indignation, the in-
trusion of any authority between his conscience and convic-
tions and the soul of his child. If the father conscientiously
believes that his own creed is true and righteous and obliga-
tory before G-od, then he must intuitively regard the intrusion
of any other power between him and his minor child, to cause
the rejection of that creed, as a usurpation. The freedom of
mind of the child alone, when become an adult, and his fa-
ther's equal, can justly interpose. If this usurpation is made
by the visible church, it is felt to be in the direction of popery,
if by the magistrate, in the direction of depotism.

It may be said that this theary makes the parent sovereign,
during the child's mental and moral minority, in the moulding
of his opinions and character, whereas, seeing the parent is
fallible, and may form his child amiss, there ought to be a su-
perior authority to superintend and intervene. But the com-

SBOntARIZBD EDUOATION. 245

plete answer is, that inasmuch as the supreme authority must
be placed somewhere, God has indicated that, on the whole, no
place is so safe for it as the hands of the parent^ who has the
supreme love for the child and the superior opportunity. But
many parents nevertheless neglect or pervert the power? Yes,
and does the State never neglect and pervert its powers?
With the lessons of history to teach us the horrible and almost
universal abuses of power in the hands of civil rulers, that ques-
tion is conclusive. In the case of an unjust or godless State,
the evil would be universal and sweeping. Doubtless God has
deposited the duty in the safest place.

The competitions of the State and the Church for the edu-
cating power have been so engrossing that we have almost for-
gotten the parent, as the third and the rightful competitor.
And now many look at his claim almost contemptuously. Be-
cause the civic and the ecclesiastical spheres are so much wider
and more populous than his, they are prone to regard it as every
way inferior. Have we not seen that the smaller circle is, in
fact, the most original and best authorized of the three? Will
any thinking man admit that, he derives his right to marry, to be
a father, from the permission of the State? Yet there is an illu-
sion here, because civic constitutions confer on the State certain
police functions, so to speak, concerning marriage and families.
So there are State laws concerning certain ecclesiastical belong-
ings. But what Protestant concedes therefrom that his re-
ligious rights were either conferred, or can be rightfully taken
away, by civil authority? The truth is, that God has immediatfe-
ly and authoritatively instituted three organisms for man on
earth, the State, the visible Church, and the Family, and these
are co-ordinate in rights and mutual independence. The State
or Church has no more right to invade the parental sphere than
the parent to invade theirs. The right distribution of all duties
and power between the three circles would be the complete solu-
tion of that problem of good government which has never yet
tteen solved with full success. It is vital to a true theory of hu-
man rights, that the real independence of the smallest yet high-
est realm, that of the parent, be respected. Has it not beeu
proved that the direction of education is one of its prerogatives?

But does not the State's right to exist imply the right to
secure all the conditions of its existence? And as parents may

246 SEOUL AEIZKD EDUOATIOIT.

SO pervert or neglect education as to rear a generation incom-
petent to preserve their civil institutions, does not this give the
State control over education? I answer, first, it is not even a
pretext for the State's invading the parental sphere any farther
than the destructive neglect exists, that is, to stimulate, or
help, or compel the neglectful parents alone. Second, precisely
the same argument may authorize the State to intrude into the
spiritual circle and establish and teach a religion. But the
sophism is here: It is assumed that a particular form of civil
institutions has a prescriptive right to perpetuate itself.
It has none. So the American theory teaches, in asserting for
the people the inherent right to change their institutions. Did
our republican fathers hold that any people have ever the right
to subvert the moral order of society ordained by God and na-
ture? Surely not. Here then is disclosed that distinction be-
tween the moral order and any particular civil order, so often
overlDoked, but so eloquently drawn by Cousin. So far is it
from being true that the civil authority is entitled to shape a
people to suit itself; the opposite is true, the people should
shape the civil authority.

It is a maxim in political philosophy, as in mechanics, that
when an organism is applied to a functiDn for which it was not
designed, it is injured and the function is ill done. Here is a
farmer who has a mill designed and well fitted to grind his
meal. He resolves that it shall also thresh his sheaves. The
consequence is that he has wretched threshing and a crippled
miir. I repeat, God designed the State to be the organ for se-
curing secular justice. When it turns to teaching or preaching
it repeats the farmers' experience. The Chinese Government
and people are an example in point. The Government has been
for a thousand years educating the people for its own ends.
The result is what we see.

Grovernment powerfully affects national character by the
mode in which it performs its proper functions, and if the ad-
ministration is equitable, pure and free, it exalts the people.
But it is by the indirect influence. This is all it can do well. As
for the other part of the national elevation (an object which ev-
ery good man must desire), it must come from other agencies;
fp3m the dispensation of Almighty Providence; from fruitful
ideas and heroic acts with which he inspires the grent men

8E0ULAEIZBD EDUCATION. 247

whom he sovereignly gives to the nations he designs to bless;
chiefly from the energy of divine Truth and the Christian vir-
tues, first in individuals, next in families, and last in visible
churches.

Let us suppose, then, that Iboth State and Church recognize
the parent as the educating power; that they assume towards
him an ancillary instead of a dominating attitude; that the
State shall encourage individual and voluntary efforts by hold-
ing the impartial shield of legal protection over all property
which may be devoted to education ; that it shall encourage all
private efforts ; and that in its eleemosynary character it shall
aid those whose poverty and misfortunes disable them from
properly rearing their own children. Thus the insoluble prob-
lems touching religion in State schools would be solved, because
the State was not the respDusible creator of the schools, but
the parents. Our educational system might present less me-
chanical symmetry, but it would be more flexible, more practi-
cal, and more useful. ROBERT L. DABKEY.

WILSON'S SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA.'

History of the Rise ond Fall of the Slave Fewer in America. By

Henry Wilson. Boston: fames R. Osgood 6* Company, 3

Vols., 8vo.,pp. 67O, 720, andT/4.

This ponderous work is what the well-informed reader
would expect from its author. The first volume professes to
treat the rise of slavery in the United States, from its begin-
nings up to the admission of Texas. The second continues the
history of the sectional controversies about it, to the election of
Lincoln. The third treats of the war and its results.

Of this huge "jxartisan document," it may be justly said,
that its staple material is sophistry and misrepresentation, and
its very title an insult and falsehood. In the sense of the au-
thor, there has been no "slave power" in America. It suited
the purposes of the conspirators among whom Mr. Wilson acted
all his political life, to advance their project of riding into sec-
tional domination by means of the Abolition phrensy, to imag-
ine a "slave power" in the South, which cherished the counter-
part design to his: that of usurping the authority of the United
States to extend slavery, at the expense of others' rights, over
the whole country. But in fact, the States whose citizens owned
slaves, never were a "slave power" in any sense but this: that
they endeavored to employ the rights guaranteed to them by
the laws to protect their legal property; just as Ohio sought to
protect the property of her citizens in their swine; Kentucky
hers in their mules; and just as Mr. Wilson sought to protect
his property in shoes. The only differences were that the South
never imitated his protection of his shoe-making profits by par-
tial and dishonest tariffs; and that those interested in the swine,
the mules, and the shoes, were not compelled to a constant self-
defense, because they did not experience from us the constant
and lawless assaults on their rights, which Mr. Wilson's set
aimed at our industries and lawful intere sts.

I— Appeared In SouIAern Planter and Farmer, July, 188r. 248

Wilson's slave power ik America. 249

The book, whose very title is false, may be safely expected
to furnish abundance of similar material in its pages. The
reader has to go a very short distance, indeed, to find this ex-
pectation verified. The preface, in its first paragraphs, informs
us that in 1860, 1861, "treasonable menaces had ripened into
treasonable deeds. A rebellion of gigantic proportiDns burst
upon the nation with suddenness and fierceness." • * •
"These crimes against the peace, the unity, and the life of the
nation, and these sacrifices of property, of health, and of life,
were the inflictions of the slave^power, in its maddened efforts
to make perpetual its hateful dominion." These six lines con-
tain just seven manifest misstatements. There was no "na-
tion"; for the United States were then a confederation of sov-
ereign States, and consequently there was no "national life," in
Mr. Wilson's sense. Secondly, it was hence impossible that one
of these sovereign constituents could commit "treason" against
its own creature, the common agent. Hence, thirdly, there could
be no rebellion in the case. Fourthly, the resistance of the
Southern States against usurpation was not sudden; it had
been uniformly and long foretold, and was the deliberate and
fore-declared result of the vital aggressions aimed at their ex-
istence. Neither, fifthly, was there any "fierceness" about it,
in Mr. Wilson's sense. The South prosecuted its defensive war
with a humanity and moderation chivalrous, and, in the light
of subsequent events, even Quixotic. Mr. Wilson's imagination
had evidently not recovered, when he penned this preface in
1872, from the imprsssion of "fierceness" derived from his own
panic at Bull Run, when he fled so fast from the "rebels" he had
come to see conquered. Sixthly, none of the miseries of this
war were inflicted by the States of the South, whom Mr. Wilson
chooses to stigmatize as the "slave power"; for they desired
only to be let alone in possession of their constitutional rights.
The war was caused deliberately by Mr. Wilson and his party,
who, as none know better than he knew, with calculated malice
invaded our rights, goaded us to resistance, and refused all
compromise, in order to avail themselves of the Abolition
phrensy to revolutionize the government, establish their own
faction in power, and gratify their spite against the men whom
they could never forgive for being injured by them. The South
made the war only in the sense in which (he lamb of the fable

250 Wilson's slave power in ameeica.

muddied the stream by drinking below the wolf. Seventhly,
and last, the Southern States never had any "dominion," hate-
ful or otherwise, to perpetuate, and never sought any. They
never aimed to be anything but what the laws entitled them
to be, coequal parties to an equitable confederation. The only
"dominion" they ever had was this: that their statesmen had so
commended themselves by their ability, patriotism, purity, and
disinterestedness to the confederacy, that the majority of the
Northern as well as the Southern citizens had preferred them to
demagogues of the Wilson type. Hinc tllae lachrymae! The
true solution of these three ponderous tomes is, that they are
the howl of his malice at the American people's preference for
Southern gentlemen over such as him, and of his gratified re-
venge for the slight.

He begins his "history" (!) Vol. 1., Chap. 1., by ascribing
the existence of slavery to men's selfish desire to live at other
people's expense. This solution suits the slavery of his own
State very well; for they, having no aliens nor savages among
them by providential dispensation, went all the way to Africa
to steal them for slaves. But the account which the Bible gives
of the origin of slavery (Gen. ix. 25-27), is, that it came as the
remedy for the depravity of the enslaved; and that it was the
righteous means ordained by Grod to protect civilized society
against the vice, laziness, theft, and violence of degraded per-
sons, whose wickedness and ignorance rendered them unsafe
depositories for the franchises of citizenship. Mr. Wilson is an
ardent specimen of that species of "Christian" whose Bible is
no rule when it crosses his sipite or his crotchet. The Bible ac-
count of the matter is one expressly appropriate to the South;
for we, when we became free commonwealths in 1776, retained
slavery as the necessary and just remedy for the presence of
the savage Africans, with whom the "Christians" of New Eng-
land and Old England, those simon-pure Abolitionists, had de-
luged us against our protest.

The author then proceeds: "American slavery • • •
converted a being endowed with conscience, reason, affections,
sympathies, and hopes, into a chattel. It sunk a free moral
agent, with rational attributes and immortal aspirations, to
mferchandise. It made him a beast of burden in the field of toil,
an outcast in social life, a cipher in the courts of law, and a

Wilson's slave power in America. 251

pariah in the house of Grod. His master could dispose of his
person at will," etc., etc.

Here, again, the errors are at least as numerous as the
propositions. American slavery did not make the moral per-
sonality of the bondsman "a chattel," but tstablished properly
in his labor; precisely the thing which Mr. Wilson possessed in
his shoe factory operativeSj in a much more selfish and grinding
form than our system. We did not make the African a "beast
of burden in the field," but a laborer, more humanely treated
than Mr. Wilson's hirelings. We did not make him an "out-
cast in social life"; he possessed among his equals abundant
social ties and enjoyments, and was, moreover, connected by
real and tender domestic sympathies with his master's faimily;
a thing which Mr. Wilson never dreamed of extending to the
families of his hirelings. The bondsman was not "a cipher in
the courts of law." His life, person, and chastity were shielded
by the same law which protected his master; and his rights had
such full recognition here, that he could sue his own master,
with every advantage in the litigation, for his own liberty, if
he eould show any suspicion of unjust detention in bondage.
He was not "a pariah in the house of God." He worshipped
and partook of the Lord's Supper in the same sanctuary with
his master; and with at least as little social distinction as exist-
ed between Mr. Wilson and the white hireling who had been,
perhaps, his late comrade on the shoe-bench. The master could
not "dispose of his bondsman's person at will." The law among
us secured his personal safety, life, chastity. Sabbath-rest, and
subsistence, against his own master. Now, to appreciate the
wickedness of this train of atrocious libels, one must remember
that this man, if he ever took pains to inquire into the real na
ture of what he was denouncing, must have met with refuta-
tions of them all at his first step, and that, unless he literally
stopped his ears, he must have often heard them disclaimed and
refuted in the Senate of the United States by Mr. Calhoun, Mr.
Hunter, and Mr. Chestnut.

The reader will be curious to know what the author does
with the slave-holding and slave-trading record of his own State,
both of which were of the blackest and most diabolical sort. To
assume that an American Senator of Mr. Wilson's type knew
something of the authentic history of his own country, might be

252 WILSON'S SLAVE POWER IN AMEBIOA.

a very violent surmise. But it would appear that this man knew
he was deceiving; because he refers expressly, Vol. I., p. 6, to
Moore's "Slavery in Massachusetts," a book which tells the
plain story. He glozes about the protest of one or two old gen-
tlemen, in the early days of the colony, and some abortive and
deceitful legislation against the slave trade. He quotes quite at
large the protests of the Quakers (whom Massachusetts was then
persecuting!) He informs ua that little Rhode Island was
actively engaged in the slave trade, and that Newport was a
great emporium for this nefarious traffic. But he takes care not
to, tell us that in 1637, when the Plymouth colony was but sev-
enteen years old, it made trial of its infant strength by sending
out the slave ship "Etesire;" that the m^oet fiendish laws were de-
liberately passed and habitually enforced, for kidnapping, en-
slaving, and deporting the Indians near them, from whose hos-
pitality they had secured their homes; that the "General Court"
of Massachusetts recognized the trade as legal, and took a share
in its profits, in the shape of an impost; and that the United
States census of 1790 found six thousand slaves in this little and
barren territory. These facts are all substantiated by Moare,
Winthrop's Journal, and other well-known authors.

But we pass to more recent facts. Mr. Wilson, Vol. II,
Chap. XLV., of course lauds the vulgar old murderer, John
Brown, as one of the purest, noblest, and most disinterested of
heroes and Christian martyrs. He has no objection to the
crimes of the old cut-throat, save that they pursued the wrong
method for assailing slavery, and prejudiced the character of
the party to which they belonged. The Senator does not claim
any credit for Brown's exploits; but he does not seem to care
at all to veil the fact that he was cognisant of his plans, and
took no effectual steps to prevent their execution. That is to
say, this sworn Senator of the United States sat silent while he
knew that treason against not only the State of Virginia, but
the United States, was brewing; and he did nothing to arrest
the crime, save dissuade from it on grounds Df party policy. It
was well for his neck that the laws of the United States did not
retain the doctrine of constructive treason, and that the Con-
stitution and Government were so soon destroyed; else the his-
tDrian might have shared the fate of his hero.

As a specimen of his historical accuracy, we may note, Vol.

Wilson's slavb power in america. 2r)3

III., Chap. XII., where he assures us that the "capture of Wash-
ington was among the first things laid down upon the rebel pro-
gramme" • • • "To seize the capital and all the depart-
ments of the Government; to hold Mr. Buchanan in abject sur-
veillance during the remainder of his term, or, if he should
prove tO'O refractory, to eject him for a more serviceable tool ;
to prevent the inauguration of Mr. Lincoln, and make Jefferson
Davis, or whoever should be chosen leader of the new regime.
President — these were the real and avowed purposes of the con-
spiracy." On what evidence does the reader suppose he as-
serts this marvelous fiction? Either upon the reports of those
notoriously accurate persons, anonymous newspaper-scribblers,
or the gasconading of some excited stump-speaker! Or else he
a'bsurdly wrests the expressed purpose of the leaders of the Con-
federacy, after it became rightfully an independent power, and
had been reluctantly forced into a defensive war, to end that
war with the least effusion of blood, by capturing the hostile
capital! He also asserts, upon evidence equally baseless, the
purpose of the Confederates to reopen the African slave trade;
although, as appears. Vol. III. Chap. IX., lie had under his eye
the unanimous adoption by the Confederacy of a Constitution,
which prohibited that trade far more effectively than the Con-
stitution of the United States.

In Vol. III., Chap. XLII., Mr. Wilson gives his version of
that act of usurpation and lawlessness, the Emancipation Proc-
lamation. The narrative is singular. He desires to represent
this act as the deliberate result of Mr. Lincoln's progress in con-
scientious conviction and statesmanlike insight. He would fain
have us believe that he grew honestly to it from a more defec-
tive view. But even the brazen armor of the Wilson forehead
seemed to be not quite hard enough for this assertion. He there-
fore conveys it to us as the testimony of that sheet, always so im-
partially and correctly informed upon American affairs, the
London Times. Now, Mr. Wilson can hardly have been more
ignorant of the real history of that step than other well-inform-
ed contemporaries. He knew that Mr. Lincoln, as well as th^
Freesoil platform on which he was elected, always and express-
ly disclaimed the right and purpose to meddle with slavery in
the States; that Mr. Lincoln sipoke this doctrine and swore to it
at his inauguration. He knew that there was no truth what-

254 Wilson's slave power in ambrioa.

ever in the pretext that the right to liberate the seceded States'
slaves had emerged as a war power, because he had himself,
after his Bull Run footrace, voted solemnly, along with the Con-
gress and President, that the war was not to be prosecuted for
purposes of emancipation, but only to restore the Union as it
had been ; and that Mr. Lincoln had been accustomed to reiter-
ate this doctrine continually, in answer to all the urgency of
the Abolitionists. Only a fortnight before the Emancipation
Proclamation appeared, he had been urged by a committee of
these fanatics to use the war to free the negroes; when the
"martyr-President," with the suavity and refinement which were
usual with him, made about this reply, as he almost expelled
them from his presence: "You must either be fools, or must
think me a fool, that you ask me to do this thing which I have
no right to do, and which I have sworn I cannot lawfully do.
The Constitution does not empower me to make war to free ne-
groes, but to restore the Union." Yet, in tie fartnight thee-
after, he did the perjured thing! Mr. WilsDn doubtless knew
the solution of the question, Whence this summersault? The
solution was this: that the great British public, though pas-
sionately anti-slavery, had at length been so thoroughly awak-
ened (largely through the sagacious efforts of Admiral M.
Maury) to the deceitfulness and injustice of the Yankee war;
that public oipinion was pressing the ministry irresistibly
towards that just act, the recognition of the gallant Confed-
eracy. It was then that Lord John Bussell, the Liliputian
prince of the pettifoggers and Abolitionists, instructed his en-
voy at Washington, Lord Lyons, to inform Mr. LincDln's Gov-
ernment that there was no artifice by which the British people
could longer be restrained more than a few weeks from recog-
nition, except the playing upon their anti-slavery passions by
.making the war tangibly a war for abDlition. This was the
news which caused Mr. Lincoln to hasten to forswear himself.
This is precisely the amount of credit which the great "Libera-
tor," and the party he represented, deserved at the hands of
their "fellow-citizens of African descent."

Vol. III., Chap. XLVII., contains our author's advocacy
and account of the enormous innovation of universal negro
suffrage. On p. G72, he intimates that the few sensible men who
opposed this perilous measure were very naughty children, iu

WltSON's SLAVE tOWEE IN AMERICA. 2^5

that they imputed a partisan desire to manufacture voters for
the Radical ticket, as the motive. He would have us believe
that their motives were the most disinterested possible, and
their deliberation the most cautious, patient, and candid; but
that, turn whichever way they could, they found themselves
shut up to the measure of universal negro suffrage, by their
gratitude to the two hundred thousand negro soldiers who had
eaten rations for the salvation of "the life of the nation," by
the logical consistency of their principles of equality, and above
all, by the truculent determination of the "ex-rebels" to tram-
ple on the colored man, unless he were defensively armed with
the ballot. The Senator should have foreseen how dreadfully
this nice story was to be damaged by the "peaching" of an ac-
complice. Unfortunately, Gen. Sherman, in his most veracious
Memoirs, tells us that Mr. Chase, the power behind the throne
at Washington, assured him in May, 1865, that it was the pur-
pose of the Government tD bestow universal suffrage on the
negroes, and avowed the very reason which Mr. Wilson pre-
tends to disclaim. Sherman's Memoirs, Vol. II., p. 373.

The author died in 1872, bequeathing to his country the
curse of his public career, and this large legacy of error and
prejudice, to paison the stream of history for those who believe
in him. Since his death, the party whom he represented has
been covered with so many infamies by its crimes against lib-
erty and public virtue, that it is becoming hard for even tlie
Yankee mind to conceal from itself the dishonesty of Radical-
ism. The best, and indeed the only, refutation of false history
like this, will be the developments of the future. The day will
oome when all men will recognize the truth that the freesoil,
the warlike, and the reconstruction exploits of Mr. Wilson's
party had precisely as much patriotism and sincerity as its
Credit Mobilier, its salary-grab, its executive and legislative
bargains, and its returning boards. This is the only answer to
slander of the South, to which the audience for whom he wrote
will listen. True as all well-informed men know our criticisms
to be, they will pass for nothing with his people at this time.

It may be asked. Why repeat, then, these futile corrections
of pertinacious falsehood, since intelligent men at the South
are so fully informed of them, and others will not heed them?
We write for the generation of young men now growing up at

256 Wilson's slave power in aMebioa.

the South, to whom the old regime can only be known as his-
tory. They will be prone to feel, with an ingenuousness natural
to the Southern gentleman, as to his fathers, that it is scarcely
conceivahle a man who had been Vice-President, should write
80 large a book, so prejudiced and false in its very structure.
In the facility of their charity and truthfulness, they will find
it hard to appreciate the reality. For their sakes the correct
history must he perpetually reasserted, and its falsifications
unmasked. The task is a tedious and repulsive one: to refute
again oft-refuted slanders and sophisms. But it must he done,
or we shall have a generation of sons befooled into Mr. Wilson's
venomous estimate of their fathers' deeds, and drugged with
his poisonous heresies.

This book impresses the candid reader with several facts
and inferences which are consolatory or instructive. Mr. Wil-
son displays, in his vain-glorious desire to he a martyi* for truth,
the estimate which respectable and sensible men at the North
almost universally held of his party at its origin. He tells us,
truthfully, that Abolition was at first denounced, alike by the
Senate, the Bench, and the Pulpit, as a crime and a mischievous
and senseless fanaticism. The explanation is, that the men of
1833, in the North, while no friends of slavery for their own
society, yet knew enough experimentally of its real nature to
understand the diabolical wickedness of Abolition. Resipecta-
ble Northern public men had not then become factionists. They
had some respect for law and covenants. They knew what Af-
ricans and slavery were. Hence, they knew Abolitionism to
be, what it has proved itself, the dire enemy of the Constitu-
tion, the African, and the white man, at once. It was only after
the school-master and school-marm, the hirelings of a political
faction, and its Dugald Dalgettys, the politicating parsons, had
educated a new generation upon the pabulum of fiction and
hatred, that the Wilson trihe began to appear statesmen and
patriots, and his lihels history.

The attentive reader will rise from the perusal of this book
also impressed with another fact: the Freesoil party never de-
signed anything short of the utter overthrow of Southern rights.
Every page reveals, directly or indirectly, that it was not free-
soil in the territories, hut the destruction of the South, which
was its real aim. The pretense of the Lincoln platform, that the

Wilson's slave Power in America 257

right of the States over their own institutions was inviolable,
fades away as one reads, into an invisible veil. There is here
the consolation that the resistance of the South, which was the
occasion,NOT THE CAUSE, of so much woe, was not an act of
gratuitous heat. It was the worli of the Southern masses, and
not, as Mr. Wilson pretends to believe, of the leaders. Our lead-
ers were mostly behind the emergency, and were still crying to
the people. Peace! when there was no peace. But the honest
sense of the people had an intuition of the true state of the
crisis ; that it was their vital rights which were aimed at. This
bool^ convinces the reader again that the people were right.

Mr. Wilson evinces also the vast mischief done to their own
section by a certain type of Southern men, once much admired
among us. The slaveholder of this class was usually a gentle-
man of some culture, and by affectation a philanthropist. He
had probably been educated at Harvard, Amherst, Yale, or
Princeton. Accustomed to the simple, unaffected honesty of
Southern cultivated sentiment, and the dislnteTestedness of
Southern patriotism, he was simply incapable of believing in
the duplicity and one-sidedness of Northern politics. When his
more clear-sighted neighbor cautioned him, his answer was:
"For shame! Do not yield to prejudices so bitter." So, in his
unsophisticated eyes, all that glittered from the Yankee mint
of opinion, passed for gold. He imbibed with docility the Ac-
tions which were given him as history, and the pretentious so-
cial science which had libels and boasts for its main facts. When
he returned from the North, and contrasted its prosperity,
bloated with commercial plunderings of the South, and protec-
tive tariffs and bounties, and endless jobs, with the leanness of.
the South, he accepted the solution which his professor of this
profitable philosophy had so industriously "dinned into him,"
that this was the curse of slavery. Thus, so soon as he became
a petty politician, he sought occasion to utter the spurious wis-
dom of his alien teacher. Thus he became, unintentionally, an
echo of the slanders of the enemies of his own people. He as-
cribed to slavery a depi-ession which, but for that most ener-
getic and economical form of labor, would have depopulated the
South, and which was really the result of the calculated op-
pression of New England, through the Federal Congress. He
babbled the imaginary political economy of men who never saw

258 WILSON'S SLAVE POWER IN AMEEICA.

slavery, and who argued from assumed facts which never ex-
isted, its impoverishing effects. He was even criminal enough
to echo the shameful indictments against the morals of his own
people, which had been cunningly thrust into his mouth. No
where was this species of nascent politician more prominent
than in Virginia, in the Legislature which followed the "South-
ampton insurrection." These young members ventilated their
logic and self-importance by spouting in Richmond all the false
facts and absurd theories which they had imported from Yale
and Harvard, about "the fearful insecurity of the system, its
injustice, its wastefulness, and its debauching effects upon
morals." The future found these young gentlemen, iadeed, in
two widely sundered classes. Those whom Mr. Wilson quotes
with most admiration, if they survived, were found among our
most despised renegades. The rest, as soon as their beards were
grown, learned better wisdom, and with a happy inconsistency,
became staunch Sputhem men. But the mischief was done.
They had given the truculent assailants of their fathei'land a
text. When the most brilliant of them, James McDowell, in his
wiser years, essayed to stay the tide of fury and aggression in
the Federal Congress, he was answered from his own speeches
in the General Assembly of Virginia. And Mr. Wilson has again
taken care to embalm all the most extravagant of these Recla-
mations in his storehouse of slander, as the testimony of Vir-
ginia's own best sons against her. He tells his readers nothing
of the other side. He professes his wonder that Virginia, after
these emphatic confessions, did nothing. He says nothing of
the so'ber logic of wiser men among the Virginians, which speed-
ily blew away all this froth of youthful eloquence, leaving the
sober reason of all calmed into the clear truth that the old sys-
tem was safest, best, and most beneficent to the African. He
never heard, we presume, of the masterly essay of President
Dew of William and Mary, in which that accomplished man
combined the finest resources of the historian, the jurist, and the
political economist, to evince the shallowness of the emancipa-
tion rhetoric. It was such discussion as this which reassured
Virginia and opened the eyes of all her young anti-slavery men,
save such as were ripening into future scalawags. But mean-
time they had slandered their own mother, and her emibittered
enemies will tSike good care not to let the slanders die.

259

In conclusion, one rises from the perusal ot' this book with
a mournful impression. What must be the future of a people,
the majority of whom accept such writings as this for history?
This science is the very eye of statesmanship. With false his-
tory for pilot, can the ship of state land anywhere but on the
breakers? That people which "lives, breathes, and has its be-
ing" in an enveloping atmiosphere of falsehood in history and
opkisms in philosophy, has nothing before it but to unlearn its
heresies in a fearful school of experience. And what prospect
has the South for just or even merciful rule, when subjugated
by a people who believe Senator Wilson's black representations
about us? His book has passed already through four editions.
The disdainful and imperious North, pleased to see those whom
she has violently crushed accused of all guilty things, will never
condescend to look at any reply, until a retributive Providence
compels her to read it in the calamitous fruits of her creed.

FREE SCHOOLS/

Have you seen a single, sensible tax-payer, not a small poli-
tician, and thus a suitor for imipecunious votes, nor a selfish
beneficiary of the plunder disbursed by our school system, who
does not denounce the whole measure as injust and mischiev-
ous? I have not.. The plan has .been tried and found wanting.
The careful .observer of Northern opinion sees that while the
demagogues, lay and clerical, still shout for the system, in or-
der to catch the populace, thoughtful men in the North are
more radically dissatisfied with it every year, as an expedient
for American commonwealths. I could fill quite a scrap book,
with reflections of leading Northerners, upon the failure of the
system as a diffuser of any real intelligei^ce; upon its tenden-
cies to degrade American literature and obstruct better educa-
tion (outside the cities) upon the evident increase of crime and
incendiary opinions under this system; upon its obvious bear-
ing to rear up an atheistic generation of people and prepare for
America a reign of terror; and upon its futility even to diffuse
the art and practice of reading among the laboring masses.
Su£h a scrap-book might be edifying reading for our Utopians.
It seems very likely, that they have persuaded Virginia to put
on the costly shoes of the Yankees, in this matter, just when
they are getting ready to kick them off with disgust.

Their consciousness of the strength of our arguments
against their pet plan Is clearly bef rayed in the false issues they
raise. Because we see that this pretended way of education is
fallacious, dangerous and wasteful, we are the "enemies of edu-
cation," forsooth! Let us see if even their reluctant heads may
not be forced to admit, that a man may be a true and hearty
friend of a good work, and yet, for that very reason, all the more
opposed to a pretended, mischievous, false way of promoting it:
It is presumed that the State Commissioner for instance, is a
true friend of the evang«lization of all the people, and espec-

1 Appeared in SoutAera Planter and Farmer, January, 1879. 260

FREE SCHOOLS. 261

ially of the poor and ignorant. Consistency, therefore, makes
him an advocate of an established Church to do the evangeliz-
ing, does it? Let him speak out ! If he says he is not the advo-
cate of evangelization by State-action, and yet the ardent advo-
cate of evangelization, then I ask, by what monopoly of candor
or honesty does he, while claiming this for himself, impugn our
motives, when we say that we are ardent advocates of the true
education of the poor and ignorant (have been working for it all
our lives); and yet not advocates of education by direct. State-
action? And while on this point, I will add another question:
If a man reasons consistently, must not the State-schoDl men's
logic, from the admitted importance of education, to their State
scheme, also lead every Christian to advocate a State establish-
ment of Christianity ? Why not? And does the Superintendent
remember an occasion, at which I was present, when a citizen of
Virginia, eminent for moderation, wisdom, age and benignity
of character, made him admit that very conclusion, as, under
certain circumstances following from his positions?

This suggests a point against our present plan, whose for-
midable character is udw making thoughtful men at the North,
and in Britain, tremble. The Redeemer said, "He that is not
with me is against me." There cannot be a moral neutrality.
Man is born with an evil and ungodly tendency. Hence a non-
religious training must be an anti-religious training. The more
of this, the larger curse. But the American commDuwealth has
expressly pledged herself to a pon-religious attitude. Hence,
she cannot, by her State-actiDu, endow or inculcate a particular
religion. While the population of some States was homogen-
CDus, this radical difficulty was not seriously felt: the people of
a Protestant State, like Connecticut, could quietly overstep the
true history of their own constitution, in favor of Protestantism ;
and there was nobody to protest. But now we have Papists,
TJnitarians,Chinese, Jews and Atheists by the myriads; and they
will not acquiesce in the wielding of State-power, in which they
have equal rights, f 9r the partial advantage of a creed to which
they are opposed. The result will be, that their protests will
triumph, as they now do, in many States ; and we shall have a
generation of practical atheists reared "on State account" ; just
as clear-sighted men in the North see they have on their hands

262 FEES SOHOOLS.

there, rapidly preparing for them another sans culotte revolu-
tion.

In previous discussion, it was also shown, that the system
of State-schools is agrarian, or communistic, confiscating the
property of one class of citizens for the private and domestic
behoof of another. The justice of this charge none know better
than those who mix with the people; the power to make the rich
man educate their children is the main feature which commends
the system to the non-taxpaying voters. It is valued by them
as a method of plunder. We have also shown that the system
is levelling, and attempts an impossibility: to give all the people
literary occupations; whereas in all countries, and in spite of
universal schools, it is found that the laboring class does not
read, and does not wish to read. It was shown that the scheme
confounds education with a knowledge of a few literary ari:s
(reading, writing, etc.,) which are not education, but only possi-
ble means thereof ; and in the case of the laboring poor, far the
most questionable, and least eflBcient means of true education.
The tendency of the State's interference was shown to be, to de-
grade the standard of literary education, while diffusing its
poorest elements: since we see good schools disappear as the
primary ones are multiplied. The degradation of literature fol-
lows from the same cause, by reason of the attempt to supply
a grovelling or shallow literature for the multitude of minds
one-tenth part educated. It was proved by stubborn facts, that
common schools have multiplied crime and pauperism, by a
natural influence, suggesting to the laboring classes new wants,
without increasing in them the power of moral self control or
the means of lawful indulgence. And the dishonesty of their
advocates has been again and again exposed, in continuing to
appeal to their deceptive cry, '^Better economy to build school-
houses than jails"; after it hat been proved to them, that the
multiplication of their school houses has multiplied the Jails.
The fearful dangers to the morals of children, by promiscuous
ming lings in these schools, has been pointed out; and are re-
ceiving confirmations in many parts of the country, in the
spread of abuses too gross to be ventilated in public. The cer-
tainty that our schools will be perverted by demagogues for
party purposes, was pointed out; and was illustrated by facts;
while the intolerable and tyrannical nature of this usurpation

FEBE SCHOOLS. 263

was displayed. Last: the lights of the wiser statesmanship of
better days were adduced, to show how perilous it is to fix on
the commuBity any system whatsoever, the nature of which is,
to subsidize many persons, by giving them a selfish, pecuniary
interest in the perpetuation of it, or of its abuses. For, should
the system prove unwise, or should new circumstances require
its change or repeal, the self-interest of all these subsidized
classes will prompt them to clamor and defraud the public mind,
so as to make the needed repeal impossible or extremely diffi-
cult.

The course of this discussion has added a pungent illustra-
tion to the power of our last argument. No sooner was discrim-
inating inquiry turned upon the new system, than it was dis-
covered that it had already bribed so many classes, other than
tax-payers, that candid and patriotic discussion was hopeless.
A State Superintendent in the metropolis, a county Superin-
tendent in each county, with his gang of petty tax gatherers,
his school board for each "township," his company of school-
masters and schoolmarms, with their whole cohort of pauper
parents, at once waked up to theTaijt that their much be praised
system enabled them very conveniently to keep their hands in
the pockets of other people. All these joined, in many places,
in raising a mercenary clamor, which has drowned fair discus-
sion. And our minute politicians, in whose breasts votes are the
breath of life, are seen so intimidated, that hardly one of them
dares whisper a doubt against the idol o'f the socialists. The
manner in which this debate has been conducted by many of
these petty place holders would have been enough, were Vir-
ginia what she once was, to overwhelm the whole affair with
righteous disgust and indignation. Citizens who have the right
of tax-payers, to be heard touching their rights, and State-af-
fairs; who are, in many cases veneralble for grey hadrs, for ex-
perience, for integrity, and for long lives of labor and sacrifice
for the honor of Virginia, have been seen yelped after by these
officials (whose only known service to the State has been draw-
ing salaries wrung from it by a grinding taxation), with ob-
loquy and ridicule. This is an indecency which deserves only
chastisement.

The time was, when Virginian officials had manners and
principle enough to keep silent in a debate touching their own

264 FBEB SCHOOLS

emoluments; they felt that delicacy, not to say common de-
cency, prompted the leaving of such questions to he considered
by that larger part of the citizens who had no pecuniary inter-
est in the issue. The time was, when Virginia had a righteous
constitution, the work of statesmen and not of demagogues;
and that instrument contained this provision: That no mem-
ber of a Leffislature which debated and decided the creation of
a salaried oflSce, should take office under the act creating it.
The reason of this excellent law was, that the very indecency
on which I remark might he made imipossihle, at least, in the
Legislature; that no man. when handling the rights of his fel-
low-citizens and of the State, should run even a risk of having
his judgment warped hy a pecuniary and personal considera-
tion. But we have now seen all this indecent clamor from the
throats of paid officials ; and we have seen the School Commis-
sioner actually employing the people's money to flood the State
with exparte documents and arguments, designed to forestall
the expression of the people's judgment as to measures in de-
hate before them, and liable to he justly condemned hy them.
All that the school law, toad as it is, could pretend to create
such officials for, was, to execute the provisions of the law. But
under the thin pretext of diffusing information about educa-
tion, they misapply the people's money to the work of manufac-
turing, in Virginia, a Yankee public sentiment, alien to the
genius and traditions of Virginia, promotive of the continuance
of their personal emoluments! And Virginians stand this?

The utter inadequacy of the pretext for universal negro
schooling was also pointed out; that "as they are to vote, it is
our duty and interest to educate them into intelligent voters."
We showed that primary education, larger than that given to
our negroes, had utterly failed to make intelligent voters out of
the white proletariat of the North, and we urged this plain,
honest. query: What right have they to promise Virginia that
a smaller dose of their physic which we see only impotent and
mischievous there, will do any good here? The facts they dare
not deny; hut at the plain, stubborn question they refuse to
look. Blinking that, they only repeat the refuted pretext, an
average specimen of the honesty of the logic. The radical na-
ture of the perils attending negro suffrage was pointed out to
them, from difference of color and race, alien blood, race an-

FBEE SCHOOLS. 265

tipathies, savage morals, total absence of property-stake in the
common weal, subjection to poisonous and malignant outside
influences; and it was asked. Will such a mite of the arts of
reading and spelling, as Virginia free negro children are going
to retain, be any remedy at all for these strong perils? Every
man's common sense answers : Just as trustworthy as a minute
bread pdll for the yellow-fever! Every man's common sense also
shows him, that while this sham-schooling will be utterly futile
for the end proposed, it will be efficacious for harm, by giving
young negroes pretext for the idleness and the false expecta-
tions which are their and our great perils. The art of reading
may be quite a good thing for him who uses it aright, but these
young negroes are in perishing need of learning many things
which are, for them, infinitely more momentous than this ques-
tionable boon, and which these baubles of schools fatally pre-
vent their learning; how to turn a good furrow, how to make an
honest day's work, how to groom a horse, how to cook a whole-
some loaf, how to wash a shirt, how to whet a scythe, how to
mow an acre of grass per day, and aiFove all, how to live with-
out stealing. We solemnly tell the school-men that they are
giving the country a generation of young negroes whose inevi-
tabledestinyisToworkor steal, whom they are so rearing, that
they neither wish to work nor know how. The property-men
of the country cannot hire them, because they know nothing
useful to an employer; and the young negroes would not hire
themselves if they were fit for anything. Come, gentlemen, lay
aside utopianisms, and sophisms, and "false facts," and tell us,
if you please, what Virginia is to do with a half million of
young negroes thus trained to impotency, when the old genera-
tion, educated by slavery are gone? Give each one of them
a school to teach? Will they not all have the natural wants and
desires of human beings? Neither able nor willing to work,
will they not take? Can poor, impoverished Virginia stand up
under so much lettered pauperism? Will not the alternatives
be universal bankruptcy or anarchical resistance? The ques-
tion is solemn and urgent.

We urge, again, the burning injustice of the present law,
taxing the former owners, after plundering them, for the pre-
tended education of negroes — Virginia had her own system for
educating her negroes. It was a good system, approved by two

266 FBBE SCHOOLS.

centuries of experience. It turned miserable savages into a
decent, useful, Christian peasantry. It even diffused fully as
much of the arts of letters as the Africans were in a condition
to profit by! For it is well known that every young negro slave
who showed any worthy aspiration at all was usually taught t«
read in his master's family. It was a system of education, sol-
emnly sanctioned by the laws, human and divine, and guaran-
teed to us by the Federal Constitution and the enactments of
Congress. Well, it suited the invader's purposes of ambition
to tear down our good, old, legalized, beneficent system of edu-
cation for the negro, and to confiscate our property in him, thus
reducing the white community to the verge of destitution. And
then, the oppressor turns around and taxes us, already so ruth-
lessly Injured, for means to attempt a new, expensive and
worthless system for repairing the ruin which he had himself
perpetrated in destroying the well tried and lawful system! The
destruction of the good, old system^ was his work — a work
wrought exclusively for his own aggressive ends. Let him
bear the cost of repairing his own mischief. There was wicked-
ness enough in the doing of it, in all conscience. But now, when
he turns upon the injured party, and again plunders them, un-
der the pretense of taking means to repair Ms own first crime,
th ; wrong is "rank and smells to heaven." I see not how any
righteous mind in Virginia can have anything to do with it, ex-
c-ept to protest, while he unavoidably submits.

Hence it is, that when any white man among us pretends
to be an ex animosijijiToyer of this plan, my common sense com-
pels me to be a skeptic as to his sincerity. The old Irish fish-
woman tried to /persuade her customer that the eels rather
liked skinning; but the eels never said so; and had one of them
professed satisfaction with the process fir see, I should have
persisted in the doubt whether he were a candid and truthful
eel. From this point of view, the sensible reader sees that the
very inception of this State-school matter in Virginia stamped
its motive with insincerity. The "Underwood Constitution" it-
self, thrust down Virginia's throat as it was, by the breech of
Provost Marshal's musket, did not require the Legislature to
put any system of State schools in operation until 1876. Every
patriotic reason should have prompted us to wait as long as
our masters allowed us. The State was in a condition of finan-

FREE SCHOOLS. 267

cial exhaustion, which made any breathing time, however short,
a boon to her; and her credit was already staggering under a
load she could but just carry. There was no experience any-
where in the world, to guide a Legislature in such a problem
as the Underwood Constitution imposed; the education of two
different and hostile races on the same soil and in the same
system, and in Virginia, there was a total lack of experimental
knowledge of State education on the Yankee-plan. It would
have been m'ost beneficial to wait a season, and thus gain the
benefit of other's experiments. Our conquerors, whose imiper-
ious will imposed this plan on us, then had the full fever of
their hatred and triumphs on their spirits. Every year that
passed was likely to abate something of their fury, and take
some of the "wiire-edge" off their despotism, so as to hold out
the hope that in 1876 they would "be less exacting of their sub-
jects than in 1870. A.t least, one would have thought, the Legis-
lature, driven by their masters to so vast, expensive and un-
tried a work, would proceed tentatively, during the six years
of grace, and risque only small experiments, until they had felt
their way. The propriety of delay is evinced by this plain ques-
tion: Does anybody dream, that in 1876, after the Funding Bill,
after all the experiences, the disappointed hopes, the decline in
real estate, the ebbing of resources of those six disastrous years,
any Legislature could have been mad enough to commit the
State to the cumbrous and costly incubus fixed on us by the ac-
tion of 1870? Nobody. The blunder would have become im-
possible by 1876. Well, all that we might have gained by tlie
experience of those six years, with five millions of dollars (spent
on these sham-scho'ols), which might either have paid off one-
sixth of our whole debt, saving the State's credit ; or, if left in
the people's hands, might have fecundated private entenprise
all over the State; all this our Legislature threw away in 1870,
by its precipitate, superserviceable zeal in carrying out the or-
ders of our conquerors. Why did they thus run six years ahead
of their master's own orders, in the face of all these obvious
considerations for delay? To buy votes for themselves in coun-
ty elections; to disarm the objections of radical demagogues,
who were hounding on the negro voters after the spoils of the
promised school-system ; to ingratiate themselves with the non-
tax-paying voters, by giving them speedily this pretext for

268 FBEE SCHOOLS.

thrusting their hands into their neighbor's pockets. Thus the
system was 'begun, not in wisdom or patriotism, but in self seek-
ing. Is it asserted that it was necessary to thr9w this "tub to
the whale" at once in order to appease radicalism and save the
State government from its clutches? I reply by the question:
Was radicalism appeased? Did it not wield the whole negro
vote substantially, notwithstanding the "tub?" The State was
saved from its foul clutch, not by any appeasing or dividing of
its greed, but in spite of that greed. Had the ruler of the State
and the leaders of the Conservative party then assumed a quiet,
honest position they would have met the clamor for precipitating
the school-system thus : "When the stipulated time comes, we
shall duly perform the covenant, which a hard necessity has
forced us to agree to. The poverty of the State and the true in-
terests of both races forbid our anticipating the task. No obli-
gation exist to do so, consequently no charge of bad faith can
lie f 9r our not doing so." This honest attitude would have been
so impregnable that it would have put the Conservative party in
a far better iposition before its enemy than it ever gained from
its cowardly haste and rashness.

But I have still more practical olbjections to make against
our present school-laws and their administration. I charge that,
even if we granted the propriety of the Yankee theory of uni-
versal common-sehoDl education on State account and under
State control; even if the Underwood CDustitution were right
in this thing — which I utterly deny — still our present system
is wicked, tyrannical, wasteful and unnecessarily burdensome
to an impDverished people, and comparatively inefBcient as an
execution of its advocates' own false theory. If it be granted
that theory is to prevail in Virginia, still the present school-
laws and their administration are flagrantly vicious, and call
for the reform of the Legislature. This I shall prove in a prac-
tical way, by comparing it with actual results in the present and
the past. My argument will prDceed on the maxim, that what
has been done by others in the same circumstances, can be done
by Virginia.

First. I bring our boasters to the test of a comparison with
the existing system in the State of Georgia, the "Emipire State
of the South." Georgia, like us, has been forced by her con-
querors to embark in the Yankee theory of universal primary

FREE SCHOOLS. 96ft

education on State account and under State contpol. The vital
article of their present Constitution compelling this is as fol-
lows:*

"There shall be a thorough system of common schools for
the education of children in the elementary branches of our
English education only, as nearly uniform as practicable, the
expenses of which shall be provided for by taxation or other-
wise. The schools shall be free to all cliildren of the State, but
separate schools shall be provided for the white and colored
races."

The revenues provided by the ConstitutiDn and laws, to
support all the schools, ** are the poll tax, the interest on the
existing school fund, a special tax on shows, a tax on the sale
of liquors, a dog tax, and half the net earnings of the "State
railroad."

No property tax is laid, either on State or local account,
on any real or personal property of individuals, to support com-
mon schools. Thus the grand iniquity of our agrarian system is
avoided. Even the Legislature is sternly inhibited from au-
thorizing any local taxati'Dns, by any local authority whatso-
ever, for school purposes, until the tax has been expressly ap-
proved by two-thirds of the voters of the locality (city, or coun-
ty, or town). Even this guarded power the Legislature has
hitherto wisely refused to grant; and SO far no property tax is
wrested from any one citizen to help to educate another man's
family.

Now let us contrast our "bill of abominations." The Legis-
lature,* in addition to the income of the "literary fund" and cer-
tain escheats and fines, levies on all property, iov a general or
State school fund, a direct tax of ten cents per flOO annually.
But this outrage is- only the small beginning. The county school
board may also tax all property in the county to the same rate;
and the "district schoDl board," the littlest and last gradation
of petty tyranny, the three trustees of a township, may exercise
this highest attribute of sovereignty, and tax their (fellow-citi-
zens, I was about to write, erroneously) subjects, to the rate of
ten cents on the flOO of all property! Thus, besides the other

•Const, of Ga., Art. vili. S 1.
• *Const. Art. Till . S 3; Pub. Soh Laws of Ga.
131; Const Art vlu., $ 4. 8ch. Report of Ga.. 1887, p. 12.

♦"SchoolLawofVa, codlffed." pp. 19,22; Actof As-sembly Jan. 11. 1877. "School
Laws codified," p. 27.

270 FREB SCHOOLS.

very considerable exactions which come ultimately from the
people, we have property taxed 30 cents on every |100, to edu-
cate the children of those who pay no tax, or nearly none. This
is thru-fourths of all the property tax the State of Virginia
used to require for all the ends of government, in the days of
her glory and greatness; and thne-fifths of all that she now ex-
acts for all her other purposes, in these days of enormous and
reckless taxation and expenditure! But who are the "county
board" and the "district board?" The "district board" is one
of three "trustees" for the townships, appointed by the county
superintendent, county court (Judge), and commonwealth's at-
torney! And who appoints the "county superintendent?" The
State school board nominally — Dr. Euffner actually, according
to his own admission.** And the county judge? He is elected
for a term of years by the Legislature. And the common-
wealth's attorney? He is elected by the non-tax-paying voters
of his county; in my county, elected by pauper negroes. And
who is the "county school board?" These little office-holders,
thus appointed of the several tawnships, with the comnty super-
intendent again, constitute the "county school board." Thus
the power of taxing the people, the most important function
of sovereignty, is entrusted to persons with whose appoint-
ment the people can have nothing direct to do. This is an out-
rage against the first principle of free government: that repre-
sentation must accompany taxation. True, this county board
is directed iby law to report their proposed levies to the county
"board of supervisors," who are elected by the people, i. e., by
thenon-tax-paying voters; in our county, by the pauper negroes.
But in this matter of the school levies, this board of supervi-
sors is, to the school board, only what a "lit de justice" was to
Louis XIV. of France. It can hear, register and enforce their
majesties' edicts, and hound on the constable who sells the last
cow of the white widow of a Confederate soldier to play at
schooling the brats of negroes who are stealing out of the field
the poor little crop of corn she has tilled with the hands of her
fatherless boys. The law itself is sd worded as constructively
to enjoin the supervisors to ordain whatever levies the school
board demands, provided it does not pass the maximum limit.*

* *Va. School Rep., 1877, p. 15. "The work and responsihility are thrown on him
h7 the other memhers of the Board

•See School Laws codified, $64, 4; "It than io the duty of said Board to lev;,"

etc.

TREE SCHOOLS. 271

Why this outrage on the principles of free government?
The nature of the Underwood Constitution is to make each
township a corporation for township purposes. Why did no,
the law allow the township corporation, like all other corpora-
tions in the land, to elect its own officers? Ah, the concocters
of the tyranny did not mean to allow the sacred principle, for
which our fathers fought, to hold here, for fear the citizens in
the townships should use their right of election to protect their
property from plunder under the name of school tax! One
might have thought that they had sufficient guarantee of lav-
ish taxation, in the universal and the negro suffrage prevailing
in the townships, where the voters who pay no property tax
have the power of a majority, to vote away the property of the
minority who do pay. But this sweeping and ruthless power,
wicked as it is, was not enough for the artificers of our system;
so, to make sure that property shall be absolutely helpless, un-
der the robbery designed, they also sundered representation
from taxation, and gave the taxing power, in township and
county, to persons not elected by the tax payers. Our system
is worse than those of the Yankees, from ■whom our school men
seem so greedy to borrow;, for, while the major part of the
school money in the Yankee States usually comes from the lo-
cal taxes, the rights of townships and their citizens in assent-
ing to those taxes are more respected. The township there is a
little republic, and exercises the rights of one; ours are in
names, corporations, bnt helpless corpses in fact, under the
exactions of these officials with their foreign appointments.

Once more; bad as the laws are, I have the personal evi-
dence, that these irresponsible exactors are capable of trans-
cending those laws. They actually made me pay in Prince EM-
ward county, for 1877, to the State ten cents on every $100 for
school purposes. To the county and district jointly twenty
cents on every $100 of my real estate in Prince Edward, and
26 9-10 on every filOO of my personal property. I have the
county treasurer's receipt for this lawless plunder (6 9-10 cents
per $100 more than the maximum allowed by their own tyran-
nical laws) in my desk. It may be satisfying to the curious to
know how much tax a countryman pays who has no municipal
taxes and no municipal privileges. On my little mite of real
estate: To the State, county and schools, 105 cents on every

272 FREE SCHOOLS.

$100 of value. On my personal property to the State, county
and school, 127 6-10 cents on every flOO of value, besides my
separate income tax. This is quite near enough to confiscation,
especially on real estate which yields the owner juist per cent.
annually. Of course there Is no redress. E>ery well informed
person knows that this is just the kind of oppression which
John Hampton resisted in the famous case of the ship-money,
and which ultimately cost Charles I. his head. But the despo-
tism in Virginia is so much more crushing than that of the
absolutist king, that any man who made a stand for his rights
here would be simply laughed at.

Now, the point of my ooonparison is, that Georgia is as
distinctly committed to the wrong system of universal State-
schools as Virginia is. Yet Georgia can set up that system
without trampling, in this way, on the rights of the people.
The Legislature of Georgia could at least avoid that self-evident
enormity, of enabling the non-tax-paying majority to vote away
the money of the paying minority withoiut redress to the latter.
She did at least avoid the .wickedness of so legislating, as that
the power of levying and disbursing property-taxes should be
placed in the hands of one class of the people who do not pay;
while the necessity of paying taxes is imposed on a distinct
class — those who own property. If this is not "class-legisla-
tion" — the essence of oligarchy— I know not what is. Geor-
gia, knowing that, with universal white and negro suffrage,
the class who pay no property tax must always be in the ma-
jonty, wisely refuses to levy any property tax for schoDls. The
only general tax she allows to be levied on her people for this
communistic purpDse is a poll-tax, in which rich and poor pay
aUke.

Now, if we must have the Yankee system, why cannot our
Legislature imitate the wisdom and moderation of Georgia?
Let all property'taxes. State and local, for school purposes, be
abolished. Let the poll-tax be dedicated to that use, with the
proviso, that the parent must at least pay the poll-tax, in or-
der to enter his children. And, if this would not make a sum
sufficiently splendid for our enthusiasts, let us imitate. Georgia
again, and devote the liquor-tax to the schools. The AuditDr
estimated that the Moffett law, properly applied, would yield
$600,000. Is not that, added to the poll-tax and the income of

FEEE SCHOOLS. 27^

the literary fund, enough to glut the raipacious maw of the
School Board? Give them this; and we shall at least have
the consolation o* knowing, that we are mot plundered to sup-
port a mischievous system, unless we choose to commit the
folly of tippling.

The powers given these petty officials by our laws are also
tyrannical in the matter of school buildings and fixtures.* These
officers, practically irresponsible to the people, decide that any
building they please are needed, and the people are taxed, "will
they, nill they" to build them.* The county Superintendent is
armed with the power of condemning a building, already paid
for by the people's money, and disposing of it. Ee who does
not see here openings for corrupt robbery must be blind in-
deed. I know that officials may be found, who do not build or
alienate school-houses for jobbery, and who endeavor to con-
sult the poverty of their people. But the system is evil, in
that it gives the power to unscrupulous men; in that it applies
the temptation to human nature. And I know that abuses do
exist, showing cruel oppression of our burdened tax^payers. I
know of a sehool-house, needlessly built, against the advice
and protest of discreet tax-payers, in a township of honest
country people almost bankrupted already by taxes, occupied
by a pretended school one or two seasons, and since standing
empty, except aa used, without authority, for a tobacco bam!
How many hundreds of such cases exist? The people are sa
tired out and crushed with oppr.essions, that they are too lan-
guid to protest ; and such doings pass sui siUntio.

But now, let us compare the cost of our sehDols, and those
of Georgia; a vital point when our State is hovering over in-
solvency.t Georgia spends, in one year, $434,046.]; Virginia
spends, for one year, $1,050,346! ! ! ! Georgia is the undimin-
ished Empire State of the South, with of pop-
ulation, and millions of taxable property. Vir-
ginia is shorn of one-third the dimensions by dismemberment
and claims only millions of taxable values.

Again,§ the total expense of working the system in Geor-
gia is $6,390.58. The expense of working our system is, ||by

tScho6l Laws codmed, S Vs-Ai.

•Hctaool Laws codified, % i'ir^.

■tOeorgia School Rep. for 1876. p. — . p. 8. p. 8 again.

{Virginia School Bep tor 1877, p. 7. pp. 6, 6.

^Georgia School Rep, for 1876, p, — , p. 8. p. 8 again.

llVlrglnla School Rep. lor 1877, p. 7, pp, 5, 6.

274 I'REl! SCHOOLS.

the Superintendent's own figures, ?170,837.78. TUs includes
aothing for building school-houses; all this immense sum goes
for salaries, fees and rents, etc. Is it any longer a surprise to
the people of Virginia, that there is aa indecent and vicious re-
sistance to all amendments, on the part of this well-pampered
crew? The number of children in Greorgia (of both colors) be-
tween the ages of six and eighteen is reportedl to be 394,037,
the number enrolled was 179,405, and the actual average num-
ber in the schools was 115,121. In Virginia (see reference
atoove) the number of both colors between five and twenty-one
years, was said to be 482,789 (the difference of 88,752 in favor
of Virginia would be more than offset by the children between
five and six, and (between eighteen and twenty-one, not enu-
merated in Georgia), and the average actually taught last year
was 117,843. That is to say: our Virginia system teaches but
2,722 more children than the Georgian system, but costs our
distressed State nearly twice and a half as much money. Why
cannot our system be wrought as cheaply as the Georgian?
Look at the enormous salary-list on our plan :* Salary for State
Superintendent; salaries for his clerks; office expenses at the
seat of government; salaries for a cohort of county Superin-
tendents, at the tune of ?300 for each of the first ten thousands
of souls in his county, and $20 iov each subsequent thousand;
so that a county of eighteen thousand souls pays for these few
duties a salary of $460: salaries to clerks of county boards and
district boards; salaries for Treasurers, per diems for district
trustees, salaries for the enumerators of children; so that, for
every four dollars and fifty cents which reaches the teachers —
the men who do all the real work — one dollar of the people's
money is stopped on the way t9 grease the palm of some blat-
ant advocate of the system, who teaches no child at all. But,
on the Georgian plan, the county Superintendent receives no
pay but a. small per diem for the days actually devoted to his
duties; and the county boards no pay at all, except exemption
from jury and road-services. Why cannot Virginians serve the
cause of education as cheaply as Georgians?

Again, the monthly cost of the Georgian child for school-

IGeoTgia School Rep. for 1876, p— , p. 8, p 8 again.

•Va. SohoolKep. 1877, p. 7. School Laws oodlfled, § 73, p. 27, p. 21. Aot of Assem-
bly, Maroh 29, 1877. *^

prEe schools. SI'S

ing is 84 1-3 cents. The monthly cost of the Virginia child is
$1.40.

Or, let us taike this view of the economy of our system.
The average pay of primary male teachers in Virginia is $33.10
per mDuth; of female teachers, $27.37 per month. But private
parties have no difficulty in employing young ladies, of liberal
culture, who actually teach the higher English branches, Latin,
French and music at iprices ranging from $12 tD $15 per month
with board. Every country housekeeper knows that the board
of a young lady in his family does n,Dt add $10 per month to his
actual expenses. So that iprivate parties can get competent
persons to teach the higher branches for $22, when the State
gives $27.37 for teaching the plainest rudiments. Yet the boast
was .that the State would do the work so much more economi-
cally! There are accomplished ladits now in Virginia laboring
long hours in schools unendowed by the State, at $150 per year
without board. NegrD fellows, on the" other hand, who would
think themselves well ipaid at $8 per month in the field, and
young negro women who would be satisfied with $5 per month
in the laundry, are paid $33 and $27 per month, while white
ladies are reduced to work for $12 or $15. No wonder the sys-
tem is popular with negrDes and office-holders.

One other excellent feature of the Georgia law is secured
by the very Constitution of the State — Art. viii. Sec. 5. "Noth-
ing contained in Sec. 1 of this Art. shall be construed to de-
prive schools in this State, not common schDols, fpom participa-
tion in the educational funds of the State, as to all pupils thefe-
in, taught in the elementary branches of an English educa-
tion."

The meaning of this provision is, that all schools created
and regulated by parents themselves, shall have the same title
to a share in the schDol fund to pay for instruction in the Eng-
lish rudiments with those created by the State, provided the
teachers of the former come under a few simple regulations en-
suring the useful performance of their duties. The vital ad-
vantage of this is, that the State of Georgia restricts and limits
that intrusion into and usurpatiDn of parental rights and re-
sponsibilities within the narrowest limits permitted by her
conqtierors, wliich our system studies to push to the most sweep-
ing and enormous extent. The State of Georgia recognizes the
right of parents to say where a school is needed., how it shall

276 FEEE SCHOOLS.

be regulated, wh9 shall be its teacher, what shall be its text-
books, what its moral or religious regimen. The State of Vir-
ginia does all that can be done to wrest these inalienable rights
and duties from the parents to whom God and nature have
given them, and vest them in three "school trustees." The State
of Greorgia says to parents: "Exercise your rights of choice,
and the Commonwealth will acquiesce and pay the portion of
the fund equitably due your iaimilies, to the teacher of your
choice." The State of Virginia virtually says: "I claim, like
pagan Sparta, to be parent of all children, and to usurp the
rights of natural parents in dictating by my officials, where,
how, and by whom your children shall be educated; and if any
parent insist on his rights of doing his own natural duties to
his own offspring, he shall be punished therefor, by having his
property taken from him to educate other people's children in
ways he did n9t elect." There is the difference.

The experience of every practical man will teach him how
conducive this feature of the Georgia law is to flexibility, con-
venience and economy. The parents of a neighborhood create
a school; they are the best judges where it should be situated,
and who had best teach it; for they are actuated by disinterest-
ed love for the children, and sound common sense. They fur-
nish the house and the appliances. Hence, every dollar the
State contributes is applied to the cost of actual instruction.
The plan has the flexibility needed for a sparse population;
the wishes of parents, desiring higher tuition for their chil-
dren, co-operate with the wishes of the State desiring primary
tuition for all ; and public and (private interests work together
for the mutual benefit of the property-class and the poor.

It may be claimed, that a similar thing is sometimes done
in Virginia. If it is, it is done informally, and outside the pro-
visions of our iron system. The instances speak well, not for
the system, but for the good sense and right feeling of some
of the officials.

Let us now proceed to compare our system with the for-
mer system bequeathed by our wise fathers. Before the war,
it was much the fashion with the Utopians to bela(bor that sys-
tem with abuse, as inefficient and partial. But experience now
proves that the results were every whit as complete and use-
ful as the results ot our present oppressive plan, while the old

FREE SCHOOLS. 277

one has the unspeakable advantages of economy and founda-
tion in right principles.

According to the report of William A. Moncure, Second
Auditor, the literary fund of Virginia accomplished in 1858
the following results: The number of schools assisted in Vir-
ginia was 3,847. The number of poor children sent to school
was 54,232. The average attendance of these children was not
quite twelve weeks, or three months of school time. The aver-
age annual cost of the tuition and (books of each child was
f2.96, or about $1 per month for the time actually spent in
study. And the total cost of the system to the State was only
$160,530. The addition made for the expenses of administra-
tion seems to have been, in all, |18,047, if we rightly infer from
the Second Auditor's figures. The whole expenses of the cen-
tral administration were but $2,750 (as against $5,819 in 1877),
and the only other salaried agents were the county superintend-
ents, who received, what one of them calls in his report, a "lit-
tle pittance." "School commissioners," in all the counties, per-
formed tlieir duties gratuitously, and were prompt and proud
to do so from philanthropy and patriotism. fV/iy cannot this
he done nowf The Reports from all the counties, while recog-
nizing defects, and admitting that the results were incomplete,
yet infonn the government of the general popularity and pro-
gressive utility of the system. But now, the general verdict
which comes up from disinterested and intelligent men in all
quarters is, that our present system is an expensive, mischiev-
ous and cruel sham.

Per contra, it claims, in the School Report of 1877, to have
given, on an average, four and a half months' tuition to 117,843
children, at an average monthly cost of $1.43 per imonth, and
at a total cost to the State of $1,050,346. While the cost of ad-
ministration of the old system was but $18,000, the expense o'f
working the new has been $170,800! If we regarded the num-
ber of pupils alone, the old system did nearly half the work
(54,232 children then, 117,843 naw) for less than one-fifth of the
money'. Look at that! $178,577 then, against $1,050,346 now.
Then Virginia was rich; now she is poor. The cost of adminis-
tration was then, absolutely, a little over one-tenth of what it
is now; and relatively to the numbers taught, about one-fourth
of the present.

278 FB£B SCHOOLS.

An attempt will be made to break the terrible force of this
comparison of facts by reviving the complaints which our Uto-
pians used to utter against the incompleteness of our old sys-
tem. The plea will be that, if the system was cheap, its fruits
were very poor. We shall again hear the old complaints as
to the great irregularity in attendance, the listlessness of par-
ents and pupils, the scantiness of the letters actually gained,
etc., etc., etc. But the answer is: First, that this imperfection
of results, which was true of the old system, if it argues any-
thing, argues the folly of the State's attempting to cure in the
populav masses the disease of ignorance, indolence and apathy,
by anj such quantum of the arts of letters as the State can give
on any system. If the former results argue anything, they ar-
gue tlitf just application to the whole subject of the maxim,
"One mar. can take a horse to water, but a hundred cannot
make him drink"; they only show what we have all along
urged — that to inspire aspiration, punctuality, industry, a con-
scientious use of privileges and acquirements, is what the State
has no means of doing, and without these, any appliances, or
any plan, are wasted.

But second, the answer is, that our new system, with all
its tyranny and crushing expense, yields fruits just as imper-
fect. Were the children of the indigent then listless and irregu-
lar in attendance? They are so still? Was the tincture of let-
ters then given very small? // is smaller now. The old system
did not profess to deal with any but indigent white children.
Of these, the Commonwealth then contained about 97,000; and
of these, 64,232 were not only enrolled, but actually sent to
school. Our present system undertakes to provide for 482,789
children and youths. Of these, it has not enrolled even more
than 205,000, and it only pretends to have taught, at all, 117,-
843. Talk of imiperfect results! The old system was energy
and perfection compared with this! The old system had so far
overtaken its destined work as to give nearly three months'
schooling to more than half the whole mass of youth for which
it was designed; while the new system has not enrolled nearly
half of its appointed mass, and has not given any instruction to
three-fourths of its appointed charge. Even as to the enrolled
youth, we have a betrayal of its ineflSciency, and of the abound-
ing listlessness and irregularity of its beneficiaries. The pres-

FBBE SCHOOLS. 279

ent law makes the oompensation of the teachers depend on the
actual attendance, rather than the numibers claimed on the
school-rolls. The law says that a teacher shall not be maintain-
ed, unless an actual average of sixteen daily is in attendance.
Now, it is very well known among the teachers, that, unless
they have a roll of not less than thirty pupils, it is usually vain
to hope for an actual average attendance of sixteen. What
does this mean? That on any average day, when sixteen are
in place long enough to be counted, fourteen are truant. That
tells the whole tale as to the wretched results of our present
organization. Dr. Ruffner's figures tell the same miserable
story. Of all the youth of school age, only 24.4 per cent, attend
school on an average; and of those enrolled, only 57 1-2 per
cent, attend. (In round numbers, 205,000 are enrolled; 118,000
have attended. Now as 118,000 : 205,000 :: 57 1-2 : 100.)

Here, again, are the stubborn facts, showing that the old
Virginian system was as much more efficient as it was cheaper.
But we shall see our Utopians, with their usual candor, persist-
ently averting their eyes from the facts while they go on with
their baseless boasting. Why will our authorities, with this
clear light of experience before them, still prefer the bad sys-
tem to the good? If they do, the people will understand why:
Because the system is worked for the advantage of the office
holder, and not of the State. That will be clear to the people's
common sense.

I have now shown our legislators two plans — the Georgian,
and the old plan of Virginia — ^both of which have been triad,
and either of which is immeasurably better than the one that
curses us. This system of our fathers had superiority in its
principles, as great as in its practical workings. Of these, 1
will, in concluding, present two. One was, that the State gov-
ernment left to parents those powers and rights which are theirs
by the laws of God and nature, and which cannot be usurped
by a just, free government: those of directing the rearing of
their own children, and choosing its agents and methods. Clus'
ters of parents were left to create schools, to elect teachers, to
ordain the instruction and discipline. When the parents had
used their prerogatives, then the State came in as a modest ally
and assistant, and by providing for the teaching in those schools
of such children as their helpless poverty made proper wards

280 FEBB SCHOOLS.

Of the State's charity, helped on the work of education, and sup-
plied that destitution which private charity did not reach. There
was a system conformed to the good old doctrine of our fath-
ers, that "governments are the servants of the people." But
the present plan proceeds on the doctrine of despots, that the
people are the servants of the government. Parents are bidden
to stand aside, and betray their rights and duties, while little
State oflScials usuiip their jtowers of creating schools, electing
teachers, and ordaining methods.

The other was, that our wise fathers, by this simple plan,
resolved the otherwise insoluble difficulty about the religion of
the schools, which is now involving the friends of State educa-
tion in the North and in Europe, in inexplicable entanglements.
On the one hand, if the State is to act fairly and honestly up to
her pledge to sever herself from the Church, she cannot incul-
cate one religion to the exclusion of the others. On the other
hand. It is an Atheistic outrage on the Christians, who compose
the larger part of the citizens, to intrude between them and
their children, and then give them a godless, which, as we have
shown, must be an ungodly education. We have again and
again warned the advocates of the Yankee State theory, that
the entanglement was insoluble, and that the practical result
will surely be, that the attitude of our constitutions will en-
able the infidel party to triumph everywhere, to expel the Bi-
ble and Christianity 'from all the schools, and to rear us (so far
as State schools go) a generation of Atheists. This is to be
the practical issue of their misguided zeal — ^the issue which is,
in fact, rapidly establishing itself in the Northwest to-day.
Now, all this difficulty was avoided by our fathers' plan. The
State, which knows no church in preference to another, did not
create schools; did not usurp that parental function; did not
elect the teachers; did not ordain their discipline or religious
character. Parents have the right to do all these things in the
lights of their own consciences and spiritual liberty, and the
parents made the schools. No other solution will ever be found
that is as good, R. L, DABNEY.

LECTURE'

COMMENDATION OF THE STUDY OP PHILOSOPHY.

It is now fashionable with many advocates of physical
science, to denounce this study as useless. The subject to-night
will be the inquiry, Is this so? Or is it still true, that "the
proper study of mankind is man?" But we must define what
we discuss. There is a tradition that the old Greek philosopher,
Pythagoras, when asked, So^wrw «; replied Od /in, aoipmir
ft ^lAor. "Wisdom" here meant, knowledge of the mental
principles which regulate all other knowledge. It was, I be-
lieve, H. Crabb. Robinson, who asked Goeihc if he was read-
ing any philosophy; when he said: "No; I do not propose at
this time, to do any thinking about thinking." This is a very
good definition of philosophic thought. Thinking how the
mind rightly thinks. It is usually regarded as including, 1.
Psychology, or the "natural history" of the human mind. 2.
Logic. 3. Ethics, or the princi/ples of du:y 4. Ontology, or the
science of real existences. 5. Nat. Theology: The inquiry after
the First Cau.ses.

The grounds on which philosophy is usually disparaged a?e
these: First. That there can be no true science, except it be
founded throughout on a basi.s of facts. How do we ascertain
facts? By actual observation. The instruments of observa-
tion are our senses. But mind and its processes are not obser
vable by our senses. Hence, second. There can be no true sci
ence, save of phenomena (changes in objects cognizable by our
senses) and their laws. Third. The history of philosophy con-
firms this: they say, it has never had any certainty. It settles
nothing, but keeps its doctrine.s in endless debate. Every new
age presents a new philosophy, w^hich is built up only to be de-
molished by the next age; whereas physical science is settled;
it is "positive," it establishes its permanent laws, which thence-

1, Public Lecture. University oJ Texas. Dec. 1886. 281

282 LECTURE.

forward abide to bless and help mankind with their aipplica-
tiniis. A striking instance of this charge is presented by Mr.
G. H. Lewes, who writes a "History of Philosophy" with the
purpose, as he says, of proving that there is no philosophy. This
strikes me very much as though a man should trouble himself
to write a biography of Wm. Tell, for the purpose of proving
there had never been any Tell ! Mr. Lewes thinks philosophy a
humbug. The man who writes a whole history of a humbug
is in great danger of making his book a humbug!

Men are arguing here, under this illusion, that it is the
bodily senses alone which give palpable, solid facts; beguiled
by that featnre of obtrusiveness and familiarity, which marks
our bodily sensations. Hence their 'baseless notion, that ail
doctrines about Mind, that intangible and invisible thing, are
but vague speculations of which there is no stable way to con-
vince othei men. But the science of mind is a science of ob-
servation, and is based on facts, the most solid kind of bottom-
facts: The facts of consciousness. "Ah," they reply; "of con-
sciousness! Another shadowy, abstraction among faculties!
Give us facts of eyesight!" Very well. Let us take the most
familiar and homely case. Your eyes, nose and palate, you
think authorize you solidly to say: "I see my breakfast."
Butin saying that, you have said, I, Ego, Self! And the ego,
the self, has been the subject of your proposition, the nomir
tive to your verb "««." So that to know your breakfast,
you must first have known yourself, as a Mind capable
of consciousness and thought, believing in its own
existence and identity, and furnishing from its own
inner powers the conception of space, position, and the
other relations in which the breakfast is seen to exist. You
must have a knowledge of this Self in order to have a knowl-
edge of your breakfast. You can only believe in your break-
fast by means of beheving in this self, this mind, and its laws,
which shows you the outer object. If your belief in your mind
is uoi solid, still less can the belief in your breakfast be. this
hangs on that. What a delusion then, to say that your break-
fast is a fact of observation, and yet, 1 its laws and powers, 2
your 3 mind, are not! While shut up in this room, you could
fast is a fact of observation, and yet, (1) its laws and powers,
(2) your, (3) mind, are not! While sbut up in this room, you

LECTURE. 283

could only see one of those trees, by looking through a window.
And the window is nearer to you than the tree. So that you
cannot know the tree as a fact of observation, without having
first knomn the window as a fact of abservation. So, you can never
reason, without having, beforehand, and in order to your rea-
soning, some principle or axiom, which you reason by. Try it.
You reason, fDr instance: "Men must be real free agents, be-
cause a just Grod holds them responsible." Right. But your
mind saw this inference to be right, only because you were
guided by this prior, self-evident principle that free agency is
necessary to my just responsibility. If your inference is solid,
the principle it hangs on must be more solid. But that is an
abstract principle in philosophy! And when you argue with
your fellow man, you know that yDU can only convince him
of your inference, by means of that same first principle regulat-
ing his mind and thought, just as it does yours. If you did
not think so, you would deem it just as sensible to argue with
your horse, as your neighbor. And so, all around, we find that
our "facts" of sensation are only certain to our knowledge on
condition we believe in these inner "facts''' of miud, the gen-
eral and, if you will, abstract principles of thought, which
regulate the action of all faculties, frDm the olfactory, up to
conscience. You have had to philosophize, in spite of yourself,
in order to use your nose, your fingers, and your eyes and ears.
You may be in the condition of astonishment of Moliere's gm-
tilhoome bourgeois, M. Jourdain, who, when his literary teach-
er showed him the distinction of prose and verse, was very
much surprised to find that he had been speaking prose all his
life! You have been obliged to prDceed, in all your knowledge,
on this much abused philosophy, all along!

It may be well just here to illustrate farther the fact that
every man philosophizes, "will he, nill he," if he thinks. Here
is a plain carpenter, who on Monday takes up the hatchet he
had sharpened and used Saturday. It proved itself of good
steel, temper and edge, then. Will it cut well this mDrning?
Assuredly it will, says the honest man. But may it not have
changed its nature since Saturday, although not meddled with
in any way? Is it obliged to be steel now, because it was steel
then; may it not now be of soft iron? or lead? "No!" he ex-
claims. "That's absurd!" But why absurd, Mr. Carpenter?

284 LEOTUEE.

Perhaipa he had not thought it out in full form; but now that
you press him to do so, he tells you: no change could have
been made in the metal without some cause; and that "he
knows by looking at it," i. e., by its sensible properties, that it
is still steel. That is all very plain and simple; but this car-
penter has now pDsited three of the most profound general
truths of abstract philosophy: The necessary law of causa-
tion; the continuity and permanency of substantive being; and
the inseparaible union of attributes to their substance. He
has been dealing In the depths of ontology! He has even de-
cided the philosophic axiom on which the theological argu-
ment for and against the sacrament of the mass turns! Quite
a philosopher he!

A pump-maker brings you a new pump. He knows that
the piston, valves and air-tight joints are precisely like those
ot other pumps in actual use. You ask, "Has this pump ever
been tried?" "No, sir." "Then how do you know it will draw
any water?" "Oh, sir, it will be sure to draw. My other pumps
made like it, do." Here he posits another prime maxim of
philosophy : "Like causes are sure to produce like effects."

Messrs. Huxley, Ck>mte, Tindal & Co. abuse philosophy,
and applaud science. I ask them, can a scienee be built up by
hypotheses alone? Oh, no! But why not? Why is inductive
demonstration necessary? The answer is philosophy: logic.
Does the frequent observation of a "post hoc' prove a 'prop-
ter hocV Oh, no: that is not valid induction. Why not? The
anstver, again, is philosophy : logic.

Now, one may exclaim in surprise: How is it that we have
all been philosophers unconsciously, and have spoken ill of the
philosophy we all nevertheless employ? The answer is, that
the fundamental laws of thought are self-executive. The kind
Creator has, fortunately for us, ordained them so that they
usually put themselves in operation and work aright, without
our adverting to them, or choosing how they are to work. Then,
you may ask: Is not the study of them as unnecessary as their
action is unavoidable? I reply: the case is much like that of
the muscles and tendons in a healthy boy's limbs. He does not
know their names, number, or pasition; but none the less kind
nature makes them obey his will ; and he makes as good a run
at football, as the best anatomist. The study of anatomy is

tEOTUEE. 2S5

then useless? No: suppose the time comes when that boy has
to amputate your limb! Anatomy will be very desirable for
him then. And it will be a very good thing for him now; to
teach him prudence in using that neat pair of legs of his, that
he may not strain them the wrong way — ^or put a force on them
they were not made for.

To the objection that philosophy is ever changing and un-
settled, and has established no fixed principles of science, I re-
ply by a denial. Philosophy has established a good many prin-
ciples, — such as those named above. The most discordant
schools teach them: the only difference between them has been
as to the methods of establishing them. There have been many
differing schools, rational, empeirical, ideal, pantheistic, spir-
itualistic, materialistic: from the Academy of Plato down to
the "Concord school": from Pythagoras to Hegel. But there
have always been parts of philosophy, which have remained
fixed. Since Aristotle wrote his Analytics, no philosopher has
successfully disputed the main doctrine of the syllogism. With
the great mass of philosophers the natural theology of Zeno-
phon's Mem. has continued to this day, the true, natural the-
ology. Even in the most litigated branch of philosophic psych-
ology, the orthodox school have always taught a doctrine sub-
stantially orthodox, and the same doctrine: Augustine, Aquin-
as, Anselm in the middle ages. If Locke, after Hobbes, taught
a scheme conceding too much to sensation, Shaftesbury and
Stillingfleet in England, and Leibnitz in Germany, refuted, him,
and taught the correct scheme. Over against Oordillac, the
sensationalist, stood Roger Oollard. Against Hume stood Dr.
Thomas Reid: against the Mills, James and J. S. stood Ham-
ilton.

Were we inclined to retort, we might ask, whether all the
parts of prof essed physical science are stable and undisputed?
Are there no mutations and deibates there? Even the science
of optics, newly created by Newton almost two centuries ago,
is still uncertain whether her undulatory theory is true or not.
Gteology, though a science of the rocks, still fluctuates in many
places like an unsteady sea. Its British Corypheus, Sir Charles
Lyell, is said to have edited eleven editions of his own master-
piece, his "Principles of Gteology" ; and in every edition to have
amended and contradicted something in the previous one. Men

286 tEOTUEK.

differ by hundreds of thousands of years about their glacial
age. Its stratigraphy is in some i>arts conjectural. The sci-
ence of medicine, in many of its parts, is so uncertain and var-
iable, as to provoke the gibe, that the doctors change as much
in their fashions as the ladies do about their bonnets. In phil-
ology, two theories of the origin of language still contend for
the mastery. Astronomers are not yet certain whether the
nebular hypothesis is the true account of the origin of worlds,
or whether the new star in Andromeda has not exploded it into
a fiction even thinner than nebular "star-dust." Chemistry still
has its doubts and its revolutions. Has it found out all the
simple substances? Or has it counted too many of them? Has
Ktpule convinced all the chemists yet of his theory of insomor-
phic com/pounds? These questions remind us, that uncertainty
and change are the traits of other sciences besides the phil-
osophic.

It is often asked, tauntingly, what practical results has
philosophy yielded for man? Lrook what physical science has
done to ameliorate man's existence, to improve his means of
subsistence, to palliate his diseases! It has taught mankind to
subjugate nature, to utilize the lightning, to bridge mightj
floods, to navigate the trackless oceans. Since the days of
Lord Bacon, and under his guidance, physical science has al-
most made mankind a new race, in a new and better world.
But what practical results does philosophy show? We will
tell you anon, how she rendered an essential aid in all these
material exploits. But we wish, as we pass along, to expose
another large hallucination just here. First, education has two
results: one, the communication of knowledge of facts; the oth-
er, the cultivation of the faculties and moral character. Of
these, the latter is far the more valuable. Even on the lowest
utilitarian view, it is better to have that culture, which enables
the mind raipidly to gather the facts it may find useful, than
to have, by borrowing, a set of facts without the ability to get
more. It is better to have a well built mill, which can grind
endless quantities of flour as needed, than to have numerous
barrels of flour, with no machinery to grind more when need-
ed. But farther: knowledge is valuable as a means: the man
himself is the end. Hence, the culture which ennobles and
makes the student more a man, bears most directly on the true

liEOTURB. 287

end. But the study of philosophy, even if it left no knowledge
of useful facts, would -still be the most valuable; because it
conduces so pDwerfully to cultivate the soul, to sharpen the
discrimination, and train the reason.

The Germans very happily call the "practical" branches, "the
bread and butter sciences." They win the material means of
living and luxury. This commercial age exalts them for that
reason; but under an illusion. No one will dispute this truth,
that these material luxuries are means, not ends. They are
not valued in themselves, as we value the friend we love, but
'because their consumiption ministers to us SDme pleasure. The
epicure values his luxurious dish of fresh oysters, not as oyst-
ers — as such they ferment and decay — but as representing so
many pulses of pleasure in his own consciousness, to be de-
rived from their consumption. All these things are only means
of happiness. Where is happiness : in the oysters, or in the
soul? And what is happiness? The beast would have a sim-
ple answer: In eating and lying down to chew the cud. But
he who would not degrade himself to a brute-level, must give
the higher answer of philosophy: "Happiness is virtuDus en-
ergy." Happiness is the right, harmonious and successful ex-
ercise of man's powers. And the higher the powers exercised,
the higher the happiness. The nobler mental activities, then,
are as much more valuable than material good, as the end is
more valuable than the means. Those activities, those studies
are happiness: the material goods are but means ta happiness,
uncertain, partial means; and the sciences called practical,
if valued only for their "bread and butter" results, only means
to those means.

As was mentioned, those who laud the physical sciences
as the only studies worthy of pursuit, date their splendid career
from Bacon. It began, they say, by his teaching us how to in-
vestigate material nature. But I ask, was it a physical science
which taught that? By ud means. It was philosophy! Ba-
which taught that? By no means. It was philosophy. Bacon's
Novum. Organum is solely and purely a discussion of a meta-
physical subject: What is inductive proof? the highest and
most abstruse branch of logic. There is not a physical prob-
lem discussed or settled in the whole book, except one: "What
is the nature of caloric?" And that is introduced solely to

288 LBOT0EE.

illustrate the application of the metaphysical principle to phy-
sical inquiry. This, then, is an illustrious instance of the truth
that, while the physical sciences are the handmaids of man's
material welfare, they have to look to philosophy to show them
how to proceed for this end. Take this parable. Let us sup-
pose that building houses was truly "the chief end of man," in-
stead of a mere means for his c&mfort. Then the carpenter
would be the true hero. And his tools would be his noble
weapons. But without the dull whetstone: these tools would
cease to cut and shape the lumber! It is then as essential as
any tool. Thus, philosophy may at least say, in the words of
Horace: Ergo fungar vice cotis, acutum Reddere quae femme valet
exsors ipsa secandi.

Nothing can more strongly illustrate the dependence of
all other spheres of thought on philosophy for guidance than
this question touching the c&nditions of scientific belief. Will
you believe what you cannot understand? Should any amount
of evidence make you do so? Sound physical science, like
sound philosophy, answers: Yes. Mystery, even when incom-
prehensible, is no sufficient evidence a statement may not be
true. There is no department of truths, not even the most fa-
miliar, that does not include, or at least imply, incomprehensi-
ble propositions. Will you believe what contradicts a necessary
judgment of the mind, and fundamental law of thought? No.
There is no amount of evidence sufficient to make you do that.
For, you would argue, in doing that, you would so infringe the
very •conditions of rational belief as to leave the mind incom-
petent for any act of judgment. I cannot surrender these neces-
sary laws of thought, in order to believe the statement which
contradicts them, for if I did I should thereby become incapa-
ble of valid thought, and so, of rational belief. My assent to
truth would be as valueless as that of the pig grunting his as-
sent to a mathematical theorem. The derationalized being can-
not believe.

But now, your assent to these two questions has made it
most imperative for you to be prepared with an answer to an-
other question: Which are the fundamental laws &f thought?
If the very condition of credibility of the statements offered
you, the very possibility of believing them, is conditioned on
their not contradicting those vital rules, you must be able to

r.BOTTTBE. 289

say ui/tic/t thou 7uUs ate. Eut tliis question takes you into tlie
very heart of philosophy. To settle what are the truly funda-
mental and necessary laws of thought. To distinguish them
by sure traits from other judgments, which habit, imitation or
prejudice may have made us regard, though unwarrantably, as
very essential truths; this requires the most thorough explora-
tion of consciousness, and the most careful speculation. Is this
a necessary and fundamental judgiment: That the same finite
thing cannot beat the same time in two places? Or this: That
a material substance cannot change while all its sensible prop-
erties continue the same? Or the logical laws of identity, con-
tradiction and excluded middle? Or, the law of causation : that
no new effect can arise without adequate cause, and that like
causes must always produce like effects? If these are neces-
sary principles of thought, you may reject any amount of pro-
fessed evidence for a contrary statement, assuring yourselves
that "there must be some mistake." If you confound some dic-
tate of habit or prejudice with these, you may be fighting
against the truth. And, in fact, the history of opinion is full
of just such confusions. And nothing but a very deep phil-
osophy can unravel them!

Once more: Sir Wm. Hamilton very justly asserts, that
philosophy is necessary — at least to all who do not believe the
Biible, to know whether there is a God. Certainly He is not
audible, visible, or tangible; so that the question cannot be set-
tled by observation with our senses. We see very clearly that
most of the things in this world are temiporal and depend*ent
beings; as the plants, the trees, the animals, the humans. Go
back in time far enough and we reach the date when they were
not. We cannot think they created themselves. Is it then a
necessary law of thought, that we must reason back from the
dependent, to S'Ome independent Being; from the temporal to
the eternal? And if yes: Is this eternal Being self-existent?
Is he living; or as Mr. H. Spencer says: is it not a He, but an It,
an eternal, blind, physical font? Is He or It intelligent? Is
He a free agent? Has He a moral character, and is that char-
acter bad or good? All these are questions of philosophy! But
they are the most practical questions in the universe. Can there
be any prayer, or not? Is there any providence? Is there any
hereafter? Is my dead child annihilated? And will I be re-

290 LEOTUEK.

sponsible in that hereaftei' for my conduct here? Can I enjoy
any religious iiope, or must I be an atheist, "without God, and
without hope in the world?"

The disparagers of philosophy are fond of saying, that the
exact sciences give them solid footing on the earth; but phil-
osophy is a changing and fickle "cloudland." Let us accept
the similitude for a moment. We are then reminded that it is
from this cloud-land the most toeneflcent, and the most destruc-
tive agencies descend, which bless or devastate the habitations
of men. From those shifting clouds falls the gentle rain, which
waters the earth and makes it bring forth "bread for the eater
and seed for the sower." Thence also descends the tornado,
which wrecks the costliest works of man, and crushes him a
mangled worm under their fragments. Thence leaps down the
thunderbolt, which shivers his towers and scorches him with
instant death.

Philosophy is the cloud-land? So be it. This metaphor
then reminds us of the great practical truth: That it is opin-
ion, which really rules the world, for weal or woe. And these
governing opinions, which when popularized, become the most
practical guides of action, and the most tangible and concrete
blessings or curses of mankind, have their source in the ab-
stract regions of philosophy. The thinker finds them there,
rightfully or wrongfully, and impelled by their logic become;?
their apostle, and in turn impels the reasons of the multitude
to deeds of heavenly beneficence or of relentless cruelty. You
liav€»all heard of the religious persecutions of the middle ages.
Let me raise before you the picture of one scene, typical of a
thousand others as ghastly. It is about A. D. 1210. His holi-
ness. Innocent III., Pope of Eome, has proclaimed a crusade
against the peaceful Albigenses in the South ol France, and
promised valuable "indulgences" to all who will assist to de-
stroy them. The city of Bezitsts in Languedoc is crowded
with these hapless people, who have at last stood at bay for
their lives, with their wives and children, intermingled with a
multitude of devout Eoman Catholics. Seventy thousaad souls
throng the beleaguered town ; when breaches are made and the
fierce soldiery, inflamed almost to phrensy by the desperate re-
sistance, are ordered to enter and put every soul to the sword.
The Bishop Arnauld Amaieu, is there as representative of the

tBOTORE. 291

Pope, to guiae and bless their efforts in the name of the "Prince
of Peace." Even the executioners aslced, by what sign they
should distinguish heretic from good Catholic, so as to s.pare
the latter. "Kill them all," cried his holiness. "The Lord will
know his own!" And all: helpless babes, pious Catholics, as
well as dissenting Albigenses, perished in one remorseless
slaughter.

But these butchers supposed that they were only acting out
their philosophy consistently. Is man responsible for his be-
liefs on moral subjects, or not? This is a question of moral
philosophy. If he is, then ought this wrong believer {mescreant)
to be punished for his error? Why not? It is wrong. It is a
responsible wrong. It is a most mischievous wrong. The here-
tic may do more hurt to human welfare, especially when the
eternal consequences of soul-destroying error are included,
than all the horse thieves, burglars, and free-booters in the
world. Why, then, should society hang the horse thieves, and
allow to the heretics immunity? Is it not unequal, unfair, un-
just? And since Rome teaches that her Poipes are the God-
appointed depositories of doctrinal infallibility, and guardians
of Gospel truth, why should not the Pope direct the sword of
justice? And why should we not deem the stern severity of
the execution to be righteousness and not cruelty, as we do
when the sheritf executes the grim sentence of the law on the
felon, with almost infinite pity concealed in his heart, and yet
under the impulse of an awfnlduty ^ which leaves him no option?
Plant those propositions sincerely in the conviction of these
persecutors' minds; and their bloody acts are the consistent re-
sult. Now, we Americans are blindly and passionately attach-
ed to liberty of thought and denounce the wickedness of perse-
cution for opinion's sake. I propose to you to take that chain
of propositions which I stated, and show the flaw in their con-
nection. You find them apparently an iron chain. Where will
vDu break it? at which link? Only philosophy can show you
how to break it. If you reject her aid, you stand in an attitude
more amiable, indeed, than the persecutor; but in which your
amiability is a logical inconsistency.

Again: we have all heard the famous maxim: "All men
are by nature equal.'''' There are two species of equality. There
is the equality of British freedom, whose watchword is: "Ev-

292 l-ECTDSE.

ery Englishman is equal before the law." It does not mean
that the peasant is equal to the peer in the list of his particular
franchises — these are very different. But the peasant has the
same right to his narrower franchises as the peer has to his
wider. The same law protects both, on the same fundamental
principles of justice. The maxim, in this sense, does not assert
that nature has made men literally equal in strength, in sex,
in capacity of mind, in virtue, in fortitude, in health. Hence
it holds that a true and equitable equality must distribute dif-
ferent grades of franchise to these different beings, accDrding
to their capacities to use them. It does not hold that the child
justly wields the same set of privileges as the father. It does
not believe that the woman has, for instance, the same "in-
alienable" right to sing bass and wear a beard with her hus-
band. But this maxim, after leaving Providence to distribute
to different classes of 'mankind the several allotments of privi-
lege they have capacity to improve aright, claims for the pro-
tection of all the common sanction of justice and the golden
rule.

Then, there is the equality of the Jacobin : a very different
thing, which teaches that mechanical sameness of function,
franchise and privilege, in each detail, is a right, "inalienable,"
"natural" and "self-evident." That whatever particular fran-
chise is enjoyed by the highest citizen, must also be attainable
by the lowest; or these sacred intuitions are outraged. The
question between these is a question in philosophy: not a very
easy one, if we may judge by the frequency with which think-
ing men confuse the two together. Let us see what practical
fruits this confusion of two abstract theories has borne.

One crop of those fruits might have been seen in Paris a
century ago. "The Eeign of Terror" was established. The
guillotine stood before the Thuilleries "«« permavence.'" The
gutters ran daily with blood. The prisons, filled 'by vile de-
lators with thousands of the noblest and best, were emptied by
the "Septembrigans," thpough wjholesale massacre. To nave
belonged to a privileged class was the sufficient crime. To as-
sert the privilege of any class, in church or state, was treason.
This was the logical result of the philosophy.

We pass over to America in '1865, and we see the second
harvest of death from this same philosophy. If the Jacobin

LECTURE. £93

equality is that which intuition teaches to be "inalienable,"
then it was inconsistent that the Africans, though pagans,
aliens, lately savage, and utterly unfit to wield the higher fran-
chise of civic life without ruining society and themselves,
should be "held to service or labor" under other citizens. It was
iniquity that they should be denied any franchise attainable
by any other citizen. As this was "self-evident," and the equal-
ity "inalienable," no constitutiDns, laws, or covenants could le-
gitimate the difference between African and American. But
they all became null and void in attempting to do so. Yea, God
himself was quite roundly notified, that he had better not le-
gitimate it, or he would be repudiated also! And when some
eight millions were unable to see this Jacobin logic so, a quar-
ter of a million of them were killed, their homes desolated, and
half a continent clad in ruin! Thus practical is this science of
philosophy..'

Are these portentous forces of the philosDphic cloud-land,
then, reducible to no laws? If so, we must cower and tremble
before them, as our savage forefathers, twenty centuries ago,
did before the lightning and tempest. The conviction that their
causes are beyond our control, or even knowledge, must com-
bine with our experience, of their mischiefs. Is this abject state
the best that physical science can promise to society? No. As
Matthew Maury reduced the laws of meteorology to a science,
hitherto only a riddle and a terror to mankind, so a modest phil-
osophy, pursuing the same humble, diligent method for "the
investigation of nature," teaches to discriminate, to foretell, and
even to control the lightnings descending from the sipiritual
world.

THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE
COMMUNE.

(Reproduced and enlarged from the "Texas Review" of 1891.)

Labor Unions liave been very obtrusive phenomena in tnese
latter years of the nineteenth century. In profession they are
voluntary societies of working men for protecting the "rights
of labor."

Were they only associations for protecting the lawful
rights of laborers, no more political objection could lie against
them than against Granger societies, social clubs, art unions, or
Christian churches themselves. But their real and main de-
sign is far other. Their avowed purpose and practice are:
First, to control the discipline which employers exercise over
individual laborers, members of the union; and second, to co-
erce the payment of higher wages by employers to the laborers.
Their weapon of coercion for both ends is, the strike. The la-
bor union has its council and executive head, elected by the la-
borers from among themselves, and its union-fund raised by
monthly or weekly contributions from their wages. Each mem-
ber is bound by strict vow to obey this council and chief im-
plicitly. Here is the working of the machine. Among the la-
borers of a certain mine or factory is A. B. "A union man"
whom his employers find unpunctual, insolent, incompetent
for his work, or drunken. The employers protect themselves
by paying him off and discharging him : the only possible mode
of self-protection left them under the hireling system of labor.
But now the chiefs of the union interfere. They say A. B. is un-
der the protection of "the union," therefore the employers shall
retain him and pay him full wages, although they believe he
does not suit them, does not earn half his wages and indeed is
doing serious and permanent injury to the credit of the firm

THE LABOR UNION, THE 8TBILB AND THE OOMMUNE. 295

by "scamping" his work. If the employers decline to submit,
they are at once punished by a "strike." Under the orders of
the union-chiefs every laborer is to leave his employment at
the concerted signal; every wheel in the factory is to be stop-
ped; all production is to be arrested, and the employer's whole
investment reduced to a dead capital until such time as the
union chiefs may see fit for ending the strike.

Meantime the laborers and their families, after eating up
prior savings, draw a small pension from the "union fund,"
which provides them a scanty subsistence until such time as
their punishment works submission in the hearts of their em-
ployers.

Or, if the issue between the union and the employers is the
rate of wages, a similar strike is relied on to coerce the latter
into paying such wages as the laborers think they should have.
Such is the theory of the strike.

The moral and economic objections are patent and trite.
The period of total idleness is often ruinous to the habits of
the men. The system establishes the state of chronic social
warfare between employers and employed, instead of that con-
dition of kindly co-operation, which is so essential to happiness
of feeling and prosperity in.the business. The strike entails a
fearful destruction of wealth. All profit on the plant of the
employers is lost; while the savings of the laborers are eaten
up, in unproductive consumption, and their time, which is their
money, is wasted for naught. The community as a body is left
just so much the poorer. •

Upon this loss follows another sure economic result, which
deserves to be more fully explicated. The law is this: When-
ever any hindrance or constriction froon any cause whatsoever,
is applied to production, the practical hardships thereof are
shifted over and delivered down 'hj the better endowed mem-
bers of the community, until they press upon that class owning
no property except their labor, which forms the bottom sira-
turn. If we compare those hardships to a load or weight laid
upon the top of a wall, and the several strata of the commun-
ity to the horizontal lines of stones, we shall have an exact il-
lustration: the pressure of that load is ultimately delivered
down' upon the bottom stratum. This result is insured by a
universal principle of human nature, the preference for one's

296 THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE.

own welfare and the welfare of those he loves, over that of
strangers. An individual instance will best prove this. We
will suppose the head of a family a stockholder in the manu-
factory which is undergoing a strike. He is not one whit more
selfish or less charitable than any other rich man, or laboring
man. The dividends on his stock constitute his family revenue.
By reason of the strike those dividends will droj) this year
from |2,500 to f 1,800. He and his wife hold a council upon the
question. What is to be done? They are prudent people, who
do not wish to go in debt. What will they do? Just what all
other parents in the world would do, viz: They will so change
their expenditures as to live on the $1,800, while imposing up-
on themselves and the children they love the lightest possible
hardships of retrenchment and retaining as many of the solid
comforts of life as possible. Their retrenchments will work
after this fashion. Mother will say: "Husband, hitherto we
have indulged our girls by having their finer raiment made up
by a dressmaker. The girls must learn, with my help, to be
their own mantua-makers ; they have leisure enough." Father
adds: "Our eldest, Emily, is now quite proficient in her music.
Why can she not give the piano lessons to the younger girls,
so as to save the heavy cost of the music teacher?" "Just so,"
says the mother: "And we can also dispense with one of the
maids; for the girls can very well do the sweeping and dusting
of the chambers; the exercise will be good for their health."
"And," adds the father, "there is our boy, Tom, who is now a
great, strapping fellow, passionately fond of horses. Why can-
not Tom groom and harness old Baldy before and after his
school hours, so we can dispense with a hired groom?"

So this family adjust themselves to the reduced income,
without any real loss of comfort, only, they have to be some-
what more busy and have less time for idling and loafing, which
is all the better for their health and cheerfulness, but, "How
does thisretrenchment work? Upon the under j/ra/»OT." This
dressmaker, who thus loses the custom of a large family is Miss
Bettie Jones, the daughter of a ipoor and sickly old widow,
whom she must support along with herself, by her needle. On
her this retrenchment presses as a real and probably a cruel
hardship, but who can blame this gentleman and his wife for
their prudent iiiid honest measures? Purely, it would be still

THE LABOR UNION, TH8 STRIKE AND THE OOMMUNE. 297

more cruel in them to conthnie omiilo.yiuK Uets.y Jones' needle
and then fail to pay her. Ko the jn'ofpssioual music teacher
who loses three pupils (a fifth or fourth part of her income),
is Miss Lucy Hill, a poor but reflued woman, who has to sup-
port herself and a paralytic father by her music fees. The dis-
charged house-maid is Biddy Malony, the daughter of Mike
Malony, and one of a family of eleven; and the father is the
discharged groom, who had earned one-third of the bread and
potatoes for his family by caring for old Haldy and his stable.
Biddy's wages are now gone and she conies back upon her fath-
er to be fed, while half of his means for buying food are gone.
Here are four deserving poor persons who are hit hard as a
consequence of this decline in the stockholder's income. But it
is the strikers who are really responsible for these cruel blows.

I have given a particular instance which is thoroughly ty-
pical. Other cases will vary endlessly in details; but they will
all work under the same principle. In every case where injury
or constriction is planned against the resources of the property
class the injury designed for them will be mainly evaded and
handed down, until it alights npon the bottom class beneath
them. Here we have a biting illustration of the folly (a folly
equal to its dishonesty) of all the hostilities of "labor against
capital." Every blow which the working men are instigated to
aim at their employers must prove a boomerang.

Next, we find this attempt to coerce employers by strikes,
as futile as mischievous. The pretensions of the labor union
must appear to the employers unjust, usurping and even •in-
solent: it surely provokes resistance. But in the contest thus
begun the employers have every advantage. They have more
means saved up upon which to live; the arrest of production
means for them only the retrenchments we have described
above; while for the laborers it means destitution and' hunger.
So the employers hold out longest, and the union men have to
submit after all this bootless loss.

But a stronger element of defeat appears. The labor union
does not include all the poor men of the vicinage. Many of
these need employment badly and are only too glad to accept
the wages and the employment which the union men have just
disdained ana rejected Thus after a few days' suspension the
wheels of the factory begin to revolve again with a new body

29S THE LABOR UNION, THE STBIEK AND THE COHHUNE-

of laborers, while the union men find themselves left out in the
cold permanently.

Thus the strike system has proved an utter futility, and
worse, unless the union men proceed to further measures,
which pass at once into criminality. These are always violent
and illegal attempts to prevent non-union men from accepting
employment, by insults, threats, blows, assaults, and even mur-
ders. The union resolves that their late employers shall not
exercise their reasonable and lawful rights to form such new
contracts of labor as they and the new employes see fit to ap-
prove; they decree that their fellow citizens, their lawful
equals, while not union men, shall not exercise the inalienable
right of every free human being to work for a living, and to
make such contract concerning employment and wages as is
satisfactory to himself. Thus the union men "picket" the gates
of the factory. They denounce the new laborers as "scabs.," as
traitors to the cause of the working-man. They make violent
threats. In extreme cases they proceed to violent assaults, to
murder, to arson, to assassination. Thus the labor union is
transmitted into a criminal consipiracy. Every intelligent and
just mind views these ulterior measures as most outrageous
wickedness and despotism wrought under the pretense of de-
fending the rights of the working men. Yet without these out-
rages their system effects nothing but direct injury to them-
selves, as to all concerned. Obviously, the concession to their
demands means the confiscation of the employers' property,
overthrow of law, the raising of an aristocracy of rights in the
union men as against their non-union equals and fellow citi-
zens, and the enthronement of the union in the room of the law-
ful commonwealth, as an absolute commune.

The true logic of the strike system is this: It is a forcible
attempt to invade and dominate the legitimate influence of the
universal economic law of supply and demand. This law in-
structs us that generally the relation of supply to demand in
any commodity must regulate its price. Under this law all pro-
duction must proceed in civilized society. It is under this law
the capitalist must produce and market the goods brought forth
by his mine or his factory. It is under this law the farmer and
planter must rear and sell their crops. Labor is also a com-
modity as truly as wheat, or cotton, or cloth. All though citizens

THE tABOE UNION, THJU STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 299

whose circumstances prevent the successful formation of labor
unions must also contract to sell their labor under the domin-
ion of this same law of demand. If the supply offered in the
market exceeds the demand, the price must go down : tlie gen-
eral law is inexorable: the producers of that commodity must
submit to receive less for what they have to sell, and so content
themselves with smaller profits; or they must find means to
produce their commodity more cheaply. Particular circum-
stances may in some cases suspend the working of this law
partially and temporarily. But as a general law it is as preva-
lent and regular as the law of gravitation in physics. The ad-
vocates of labor unions do not pretend ta deny — they expressly
avow — that the purpose and end of their system is to contra-
vene this law as to the commodity which they have to sell, that
is a .particular form of labor. They perceive that the labor
union and the strike are expedients from which the great ma-
jority of their fellow citizens are utterly precluded by the na-
ture of their occuipations, and that is the very reason why the
nnionists value these expedients. They know perfectly, that if
all the other forms o'f labor in the commonwealth found it
equally feasible to protect their own occupations from the law
of supply and demand by their own labor unions and strikes,
the whole system would he nugatory. For instance, what the
spinners In a factory gained hy forcing up their wages, would
he neutralized hy what they would lose to the farmers when
they came to buy their food; if the farmers also could have a
labor union which would force up the price of their crops pro-
portionately and equitably.

From this point of view the thoughtful reader sees, that
labor unions are rather conspiracies against fellow citizens and
fellow laborers, than against oppressive employers. We ob-
serve that these societies thrive chiefly among operatives in
mines and factories, among classes of artisans in towns, among
printers, among the employes of railroad lines, or of wharves
or shipping. This is because circumstances peculiar to their oc-
cupations render their measures feasible and convenient. Eith-
er they live in the same village or they can easilj' meet; there
is a uniformity in each industry; their compensation is imme-
diately in money-wages for labor. But let us observe how nu-
merous and vast classes of meritorious laborers are entirely

300 TSB LABOB UNION, THE STRIEB AKD THE OOHMimS.

prevented from combining successfully to force their wages up
by strikes. The maid-servants and cooks of America, the hun-
dreds and thousands of school-ma'ams who teach the children of
the country for pauper wages, the millions of hired farm la-
borers, the more numerous millions of yeoman farmers who
till their little farm with their own hands, the still larger mil-
lions of toiling mothers and housewives are precluded from
forming any effective labor unions by their dispersion over a
vast continent, their diversities of condition, their varieties of
products, and indirect mode in which they receive their final
compensation; modes involved in commercial complications
where the law of supply and demand must inevitably rule. Here
appear at once the real purpose and the iniquity of our exist-
ing system of labor unions. C. D. is a weaver in a cloth factory.
Mr. E. F. is an honest farmer who must buy a good deal of this
cloth to clothe his family and himself. One element of the cost
of the cloth to E. F. is the wage of C. D., the weaver; but C. D.
has resoived that E, F., his fellow citizen and equal, shall not
buy that element in the value of the cloth at that equitable
rate which should be generally dictated by the law of supply
and demand : C. D. will force up that price against that farmer
by the artificial forces of his monopoly-ring, his threats and his
strikes. But C. D. fully expects to buy the bread and meat for
his family from the farmer, E. F., under the strict operation of
supply and demand. There is equity and democratic equality
with a vengeance! But should any law or labor union enable
the fapmer to enhance the price of his food-products above mar-
ket rates as determined by supply and demand, C. D. would de-
clare himself much outraged. His labor union is a good rule
for him; but it must not "work both ways."

I have now brought the reader to a point of view from
which the justice of three practical remarks will be self-evi-
dent. When labor unionists denounce the great "trusts" of the
capitalists, the oil, or sugar trust, as monopolies, ve have a
curious instance of inconsistency and insolence. What are their
societies but labor-monopolies? In every essential feature they
are the iniquities which the trusts are, only upon a smaller
scale. And when political demagogues adopt the cause of these
labor unions, to cater for their votes, under the pretense of de-
mocracy, they are doing the most anti-democratic thing poesi-

THE LABOR PKIOW, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMtJNE. 301

ble. Their cry Is: "For the masses iigainst the classesl" VcL
they are assisting a narrow class to plunder the masses of their
fellow citizens.

The second thing t9 be noted is, the groundless and impu-
dent claim of these labor uniDns. that they are contending for
the "rights of American labor." This tacitly assumes that the
small minority of persons who belong to labor unions are the
only people in America who labor. I may digress for a m9-
ment to add, that the same insDlent falsehood is obtruded
whenever the tariff system claims to be protective of American
laibor: as though, forsoDth, the factory hands working upon pro-
tected manufactures were the only people who perform deserv-
ing labor! Whereas it has been perfectly proved a hundred
times that this class of laboring men are but a few hundreds
of thousands among the millions who labDr in America; that
they were already better paid than the average of their breth-
ren; and that this "protection" is but a legalized method to en-
able them to take something from the unprotected earnings of
their fellow citizens without value received, and to add it to
their own. To return: there are a few hundreds of thousands
of labor unionists in the United States. The census of 1890
shows that at most there may be four millions of persons en-
gaged in occupatiDus whose conditions render a labor union
possible, but there are seven and a half millions engaged in
the heavier labor of agriculture, under hotter suns and freezing
winds, to whom the arts of the labor union are impossible.
They must produce and sell their crops under the inexorable
operation of the law of supply and demand. And if over sup-
ply or partial legislation reduces the price of their products
below the cost of production, these millions must simply en-
dure it. Methinks if there could be any honest labor union to
"prDtect the rights of American labor," it should be one which
would lift the wages of these tillers of the soil nearer the level
enjoyed by the unionists.

The average American yeoman earns about fifty cents per
diem with coarse fare by his heavy toil; if we deduct from the
price of his farm products a moderate interest upon the capital
which he employs, and all the other elements 9f the cost of pro-
duction, except the manual labor. In the neighboring town,
the unionist bricklayer or plasterer scDrns to lift his trowel for

302 THB tABOB VmoV, THK STSIKE AND THE OOMMTTITB.

less than five dollars per day. There are a tbousand farm la-
borers to one bricklayer. Yet this one tells us that his con
splracy is for the protection of labor! And what shall we say
of the myriads O'f rural artisans who cannot form labor unions ;
of the hundreds of thousands of poor teachers and school-
ma'ams whose wages are twenty-flve dollars per month with-
out boarding, for four or five months of the year? And what
of the twelve millions of mothers and housewives who labor
for their food and clothing in the most wearying of all tasks,
year in and year out, not under an eight hour rule, you may be
sure! but somewhere 'between twelve and eighteen and even
twenty hours out of the twenty -four? Are all these not labor-
ers because they cannot be "knights of labor?" Yet the direct
effect of the arts of the labor unions is: to raise the price of
every roof which shelters, of every chimney and every pound
of coal which warms, and of every yard of cloth which covers
these worse paid laborers in favor of a small minority already
overpaid in comparison.

I am' not oblivious of the plea that skilled labor is entitled
to higher remuneration. The assumption is that all the forms
of labor of the unions are skilled labor; while the toils of these
ill-paid masses are unskilled labor. This is exactly false. For
instance the effective farm laborer is far more a skilled work-
man than the bricklayer. The latter has one dexterity which is
quite admirable : he strews a handful of mortar from his trowel
more quickly, and he presses down brick after brick with its
face to the line, more deftly than the- plowman could. Very
true. But that plowman must be aible to do with equal deft-
ness a dozen different things neither of which the bricklayer can
do, and in attempting several of which he would be likely to
wound himself or break his own neck. This farm laborer must
be a horse breaker, must know how to guide the plow, to wield
the hoe so as to "cut away the spire of crab grass" within /half
an inch of the tender cotton stalk without scratching it. He
must wield the ax, he must be a rough carpenter; he must be
butcher, knowing how to dress a mutton or a swine; he must
milk the cow; he must mount the dangerous mowing machine
and guide it; he must manage the complicated threshing ma-
chine and gin; he must pick two hundred and fifty pounds of
seed cotton per day, where the bricklayer could not get one

TSB LABOR ttNtON, THB STRIKI? AND THE OOMMUME. 303

hundred. It is the farmer who is the skilled laborer, and by
that principle ought to receive the higher remuneration.

The third point being noted is, the fatuity of the so-called
People's party in associating themselves with the labor uniom
in their present passionate efforts to right the wrongs of the
farmers. They are precisely as wise as would be the shepherd
dogs who should insist upon enlisting the wolves along with
themselves to guard the flock. The interests of the Granger
masses and of the labor unionists are directly hostile. For in-
stance, here is the yoeman farmer who is toiling to pay off a
mortgage on his homestead at a real wage of about fifty cents
per day (deducting fair compensation for the employment of
his capital, teams, implements, etc.) Does he need a cottage,
a chimney in it, a farm wagon, a thresher, a mower, a buggy
plow, a rotary harrow?

The labor union men are compelling him to pay much high-
er prices for each of these things, by their conspiracies. For,
of course, all these contractors and manufacturers add in the
inflated prices of the unionist labor, in addition to their own
profits, upon the cost of every thing they furnish the farmer.
But these unionists are drawing from two and a half to five
dollars per day for their work, while the farmer gets an half
dollar per day for his work. He must 'Sell everything his farm
produces (the source out of which he at. last gets his scanty
earnings) under the resistless law of supply and demand, while
they are so juggling with the arts of their conspiracy as to free
themselves from that law. Yet we shall find this fatuous
Granger enraged against the loan corporation which lent him
good money on his own terms, at his earnest entreaty, and fra-
ternizing with the knights of latior who are covertly skinning
him!

The principles of the labor unions is virtual Communism.
It is instructive to watch the proofs of this truth presented by
the development of the union system in Great Britain. The
British Liberals in 1845, represented by Joseph Hume and the
famous Free Trade Society, announced the laissez nous faire
free trade in commodities, and free trade in labor, as the very
gospel of economics and politics. The first half of the doctrine
repealed the protective tariff of Britain and placed her manu-
factures and commerce upon that enlightened basis of thorough

304 THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE ANt> THE COMMUNE.

fi'L'e trade, which founded the new era of marvelous progress
and prosperity. The second half of the doctrine emhodied the
essence of the Exeter Hall at anti-slavery. Free trade in labor
meant for Joseph Hume and his friends that every laborer
should be a free man with the right to make his own contracts
of labor to suit himself; hut to make them, like the farmer, the
manufacturer and the merchant, under the common regulation
of the law of supply and demand. Obviously, equity demands
that if the principle of free trade is to govern other commodi-
ties it must also govern labor. For labor is as truly a com-*
modity to be bought and sold, as cloth, or wheat, or iron, or
sugar. To enforce the production and sale of all the latter un-
der the free law of supply and demand, while the other com-
modity, labor, is fenced against that law, is obvious class
legislation and injustice to others. Hence, the Anti-Oom Law
League hated tariffs and domestic slavery with a hatred equally
intense and holy. It is true, that under this free trade regime
the property and capital of Britain have made an enormous
spring and doubled themselves in one generation. It is also
true that under the same benignant regimen the labor of the
proletariat gained greatly in its remuneration, and the comfort
of its condition. Measured in gold, the average of their wages
has advanced twenty per cent, since 1845; whilst the purchas-
ing power of this increasing wage has been doubled by the re-
sults of free trade in commodities and in labor.

But these happy consequences do not at all satisfy the la-
borirife men of Britain or the advanced Liberals. The former
have generally adopted, with passion, the system of labor unions
and strikes; the latter have pushed their theories through so-
cialism to the verge of communism. Both the laborers and their
theorists now reject with heat the dogma of free trade in labor.
They declare that it is tyrannical, cruel, and the direct road to a
wage slavery as degrading and detestable as African slavery it-
self. They assert the inherent right of the labor unions to en-
force their demands for higher wages by violence if necessary,
notwithstanding the facts, that this enforcement is a virtual
confiscation of the personal property of the employers at the
T^ill of others, in the form of this increment of wage, that it is
an infringement of the right of non-union men, their own free
equals, to work for such terms as suit themselves; and that the

THB lASOB PlrtOlT, THB STT?IKE AND THE COMMtTME. 305

system organized a rebellious imperium in imptrio civiiaiis,
usurping a part of its functions and forces. The socialists ar-
gue that since their strikes are futilities unless employers and
non-union men can be prohibited by force from contracting
with each other, these "scabs," thus accepting the places which
the union men have rejected, make themselves the enemies of
labor, and are therefore the proper objects of hostility and co-
ercion. They say there is this essential difference between free
trade in commodities (which they admit is all very well) and
free trade in labor: that the goods bought and sold under free
trade are non-sentient and feel no pangs of destitution; but the
laborers have muscles and nerves to be worn by overwork, and
stomaclis to be pinched by hunger, and hearts to be wrung by
the poverty of their families: therefore, the laborers ought
to be entitled to protect their commodity, labor, against these
consequences of free trade. This is, of course, a very shallow
sophism, since the goods subjected to the rigorous law of sup-
ply and demand are im^bued with the element of labor, since
their sale is the only medium through which the labor involved
in thom can get its wage and thus the price of the goods touches
the welfare of the laborers who produce them, just as effec-
tively as the price of the labor itself. The socialists then adopt
in substance, though perhaps not avowedly, the Malthusian
principle of the pressure of population upon the means of sub-
sistence. They argue thus; let the capitalists enjoy free trade
in labor, hiring their operatives at whatever price the relation
of supply and demand may dictate; then as the proletariat fti-
creases in numbers, wages will go down until they reach the
lowest level of that wretched subsistence which enables the la-
borers only to exist, to be miserable, and to propagate heirs to
their misery. Their cry now is, "Down with free trade in labor;
up with the labor union, the strike, and the forcible coercion of
the scab, the traitorous enemy of his class." Let the student
see for instance this drift in the recent work of Mr. Benjamin
Kid, entitled, "Social Evolution."

In this new phase and deduction of Malthusianism, there is
unquestionable truth. It has been verified a hundred times in
the depression, in the deficient compensation and misery of free
laiborers, in hireling commonwealths. Another admission must
be made. No existing oommonwealth organized exclusively

306 THE LABOK UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE.

upon the hireling labor theDry has yet found a full remedy for
this deplora'ble tendency, no matter how liberal or even demo-
cratic its constitution. Sentimentalists may kick against a
great Malthusian law, may call it antiquated, and may vilipend
it; but none the less it remains a true and fundamental law of
population. No permanent release from its inexorable Dpera-
tion is found in any economic or political expedient. When the
means of subsistence increase in any sDciety, population always
tends to increase up tD the new level. Then, if that new level
of subsistence be not farther raised, population will proceed to
press upDn it and overpass it. The proletariat will accustom it-
self first to part with its luxuries, and then to submit to a scan-
tier supply of comfDrts; and as long as their earnings are suffi
cient to suppDrt existence, this laboring class will continue to
obey nature's instinct to increase and multiply. It is true that
since the days of the Anti-Corn Law League, the wages and the
comforts of the proletariat in Britain have increased handsome-
ly under free trade. But the advanced SDcialists insist that this
improvement will stop, and will then ebb, as soon as certain oth-
er foreign and temporary agencies cease to operate. These are
the wonderful expansion of British commerce (which yet canuDt
oxpand forever) ; the opening to tillage of new and vast f Dod pro-
ducing areas outside of Britain; the amazing improvements in
both land and ocean transportation ; the wide openings for emi-
gration; the marvelous new applications of physical science lo
production; the unbroken prevalence of maritime peace over
the 'whole area of British commerce. Behold how under these
new and temporary agencies, the proletariat population of
Britain has sprung forward, with an increase rivaling the mush-
room growth of new American democracies, thus giving us an-
other startling evidence of the truth of the Malthusian law.
But all earthly expansions must stop somewhere. A colt may
grow wonderfully when placed in a rich, fresh pasture; but af-
ter five years of age he must stop growing, no matter what his
pasture. All earthly advancements must reach their limits.
And the Socialists assert that when Britain reaches her limit
llie Malthusian principle combined with free trade in labor
will at once begin to depress the laboring classes of Britain.
And this must go on until they become miserable wage slaves

THE LAfiOB UNION, THK STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 307

again, like the peasantry cf France and Southern Europe be-
fore the Revolution; of the Ireland of 1840.

It is not necessary for me to say whether the whDle of this
socialist argument will prove correct. My purpose is to point
the reader to the violent inconsistency into which it betrays
them. They have ever been and still declare themselves the
passionate enemies of domestic bondage. Nd language has
been adequate to express their scorn and hatred for the recent
social systm of the Southern United States. No class of ac-
cusers have done more by false accusations, slanders, and vilifi-
cation to bring upDu that fair region an undeserved and re-
morseless deluge of revolution, war, devastation and tyranny,
than these advanced socialists. But now, lo ! we find them with
equal passion asserting .a doctrine which leads directly back to
a form of slavery far more ruthless than domestic bondage
Every man of sense knows that when he is forbidden by force
to work where he chooses, and for the wage which suits himself,
even in a lawful occupation, is no longer a free man : he is a
slave. The pDwer which commands me where I shall not work
is the same with the "slave-power" which commands another
where he shall work. Again, when the labor union has forbid-
den me, a non-union man, to do the lawful work which suits me
for the support of my family, I ask them: "To whom then
must I look for the subsistence of those I love?" Their answer
is: ''Join the union, and draw your weekly pension from the
community fund, which will be issued to yDU so long as it lasts,
and you implicitly obey." Here again I am enslaved; far wofse
enslaved than the African bondman of the SDuth ; for while
the labor union may issue to me, for a time, a pittance which
may prevent starvation out of a scanty fund created only by a
tribute taken sut of my own previous wages, the Southern
bondman drew all the time his full subsistence, whether the
business of the commune was profitable or not. And to the
giving of this livelihood the head of the commune was bound,
if not by his own humanity, by public opinion, by statute-law,
and by a self-interest mDre imperious than either. And to fur-
nish this undiminished livelihood there was bound, not a scanty
fund gathered by exactions from the laborers' wages, but the
whole capital and profits of the head of that commune, includ-
ing the returns of his own personal industry. But this is only

308 THK LABOR UNION, THE STEIKK AND THE COilMUNE.

balf the story. If the labDr union, that is, tbe commune, is to
bave full authority to forbid its members to work, then it must
make itself responsible for the full subsistence of tbe laborers
and their families. But if the commune is responsible for this,
it must have authority to command the members where tbey
shall work and tD enforce that command. Witbout tbis power
the commune could not possibly fulfill its pledges to furnisb
subsistence to its subjects. But the essence of slavery is tbe
obligation of compulsory labor, and the dependence upon the
will of another fDr subsistence. Communism is slavery. Its
advocates cheat themselves by explaining: "But tbe members
elect their own rulers, and this is liberty." A very hollow cheat
this, indeed! Let communism be established as a rule of a com-
monwealth, and this will be the real state of the case. In name
the majority will elect masters over themselves, and the unwill-
ing minority. But Democracy and universal suffrage have
taught us too well what that means. NDminally the majority
was really the official wire-pullers, will determine the choice of
the masters over botb majority and minority. Sbould tbis re-
sult not follow and should the communistic elections fulfill most
hDuestly the most fiattering promises of the system, still we
sbould have tbis result: that the minority would be slaves to tbe
majority. And the major mob is always the most ruthless of
masters. Let us again make the vital point in this discussion
thoroughly salient. The ultra socialist will attempt to obscure
it by saying that in the best constituted republic the minority
has to o'bey the majority; and this is not slavery for anybody,
but liberty for all. I reply, that herein are two profound false-
hoods. Tbe first, that in a true republic tbe minority do not
obey the majority, but both obey the constitution. Tbe princi-
ple of such government is given by tbe sublime words of An-
drew Melville Lex Rex: The citizen does OQot owe bis allegiance
to the mere will of the accidentally major mob, but to tbe sacred
authority of the constitution which rules the State. Tbe power
which this constitution may have conferred upon a majority is
only conventional, deputed and limited. The clearest majority
may only exercise that power within the limits prescribed for
it by the constitutiDu, and when it exceeds these limits, the
will of the majority is no more tbe righteous rule for the citizen
than the howling wind. But the second and more essential

THB LABOR UNIOH, THJS STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 309

falsehood is here: The true republic does not legislate at all
concerning the personal rights, the preferred occupations, the
compensations therefor, or the subsistence of their families.
All these matters belong to their individual sovereignty as citi-
zens. The republic only attempts to regulate those outer rela-
tions of citizen to citizen, which render them social beings, un-
der the principles of commutative justice. But the commune
undertakes in addition to command me at what to work, to en-
force its command, to fix my recompense, and to appoint the
subsistence allotted to me and my family. This invades the
whole sphere of my personal sovereignty. It is the essence of
slavery. Moreover, all history teaches us, that the more "Pa-
ternalistic" any government becomes, be its form either imper-
ial, monarchical, aristocratic or democratic, the more will its
officials engross the powers of the State, and the earnings of
the citizens to themselves. (The experience is universal), either
by avowed class legislation or by unavowed chicanery, they al-
ways do it. The cause of this result is plain. The more pater-
nalistic the government, the more of the aggregate wealth, ser-
vices and rights of its citizens does it handle. That is to say,
the more of these do the officials of this government handle.
But such masses of wealth and power present to the natural
greed of men temptations too strong to be resisted. Now of all
governments the commune is most completely paternalistic.
Therefore the officials of the commune, by which we mean the
all-including commune of the local communes, the common-
wealth, will have the handling of all the earnings, wealth, ser-
vices, and subsistence of all the citizens. Therefore the en-
grossment of all these by the officials will be the most enor-
mous. For instance, the township institutions of the Russians
are communistic. The imperial government is an absolute
commune. But the Emperor Nicholas himself, the most auto-
cratic of Czars, declared that official peculation and tyranny
were more gigantic in Kussia than anywhere in Europe. Thus
it appears that communism must be essential slavery, under
which the citizens are the slaves, and the master is impersonal
and therefore the most remorseless and greedy of all masters.
Now of all the things in the nineteenth century, Southern
bondage was the one, which the advanced socialists most hotly
abused. They condemned the Southern plantation as the sum

310 THE LABOE UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE.

of all rillainies. But this plantation was virtually the very
commune which they desired to estaiblish, except that the
Southern had certain saving differences, which made it better
than their proposed form. The capital of the plantation and
the earnings and services of all upon it composed the common
fund. The labor of the members was compulsory. But the
common fund was bound to them for the subsistence of them
and their families, fully as comfortable as that provided bp-
the United States for their enlisted soldiers, including housing,
fuel, clothing, food, medical attendance, rearing for their minor
children and the pensioning of the old, when past active service.
The net earnings of the active members, after subtracting the
cost of their own subsistence, and a small interest upon the
capital furnished them, went into the common fund, to meet
the last two drafts. Here was a small but true commune. The
head of the commune was not elected by the slave-membersj
but was hereditary; and this was a great gain, saving all con-
cern upon the waste of time, money and morals, which al-
ways attends pretended elections in a paternalistic democracy.
But the grand, saving feature in this Southern commune was
that one which our socialist most abhors; the legal establishing
in the head of the commune of a right of property in the in-
voluntary labor of the members. Our opponents exclaim that
this is the essence of slavery! I reply this is very true; but I
have shown that their plan must vest in the commune itself
(that is in its officeholders) the power of control over the in-
voluntary labor of the members, and the disposal of their earn-
ings, else the society must speedily be bankrupt, and starve its
dependents. But this is giving the commune, that is the office-
holders, property in this involuntary labor, except in this all
important respect: that it failed to enlist any domestic feeling,
or any self-interest of the heads in the welfare of members. In
such an association what need the officeholders care if a labor-
ing member dies, or if the infants of his family perish of destitu-
tion, he loses no property! He has just so many the fewer cares
to worry him. For instance, when the crews of the patriot
British fleet which conquered the Invincible Armada at Grave-
lines were decimated by the spoiled beer, which their commis-
saries furnished, what did these care? Their private profits
upon their beer contracts were safe in their pockets. If many

THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE OOMMUMB. 311

soldiers of General Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, died in the
hospitals, this was but so much to his advantage, for he oouldl
continue their names upon the pay rolls of the army, and quiet-
ly pocket their wages and allowances. The greater the suffer-
ing and mortality, the more his riches grew. When British
paupers died in the work-house, under the late poor law sys-
tem, who cared; what official, what tax-payer? The United
States had a brief experience in this line, under its notorious
Freedman's Bureau. We presume that when these wards of
the nation dropped off, the average officeholder felt no emotion
but relief. So now, when a hireling sickens or dies, his em-
ployer has lost nothing: he has but to hire another in his place.
But our Southern communism, by making the labor the master's
property, awoke an all-powerful motive for taking the best
care of it.

If the laborer died, from over-work or destitution, so much
of the master's property was totally lost; if he sickened, its val-
ue was impaired. Hence, the statute law, which required a
master to provide reasonable subsistence under all conditions
of production however profitless, for his bondmen, their aged
and their offspring, and which made this provision a first lien,
not only upon the annual products of the estate, 'but upon its
fee simple value, and even upon his ])ersonal earnings in his
separate profession, was an enforceable law; and it was always
enforced, if not Iby affection and seM-respect, by all-powerful
self-interest. It was not like the rules of ultra-democratic so-
cieties, which speciously requiring all officers to use their pow-
ers for the public good alone, so commonly remain a dead let-
ter. Hence, while a few masters were tyrannical and stingy,
the bondmen in general had 'better food, clothing, housing, fuel,
medical attendance, than any other peasantry in the world.
While the employer of hireling labor pushing forward his rail-
road, his canal, his malarial farm, his mine, his chemical works,
fares not whether the laborers lose wealth or life or not, the
Southern master, in hiring his ibondman to another, alwajVji
made a part of the contract that he should not be employed in
any unhealthy occupation.

The late Southern form of cjuimuuism was therefore the
only one defensible. The theory, combined with the other dog-
mas of the socialists, outrages every fundamental principle of

312 THE LABOR UNION, THE 8TEIKE AOT) TH» COMMUNE.

human nature and of human actions. It appeals to the preva-
lent principle .of self-interest precisely in the wrong place,
stimulating it powerfully in the officeholder's selfishness, neg-
lect and malversation; while it loses its impulse in the work
of production for the general behoof. This communism ignores
man's desire for personal possessions, his right to an individual
home, blest according to his own choice in the use of those pos-
sessions, his zeal for the welfare of his children, his right to
bequeath to them the proceeds of his own labor. No system
can endure, which thus discards the fundamental laws of na-
ture. A structure built without a foundation must tumble. But
the folly of ideologues and demagogues may 'persuade some
discontented and misguided commonwealth to attempt the gen-
eral commime.' But it is impossible the attempt should oon^
tinue. Its only permanent result will "be destruction, or enor-
mous mischief to the material civilization, morals and happi-
ness of the society. The people disgusted with the experiment,
will speedily struggle back to some political order, less insane;
usually to one more despotic and less benignant than that
which they deserted. Or else, communism will destroy their
wealth and civilization and bring it down to chronic barbarism.

An authentic incident of one of the great "mining strikes'"
in Pennsylvania well illustrates this. A yeoman farmer wae
harvesting the products of his little orchards and fields, when
a sturdy loafer demanded a bag of apples and ipotatoes, with
the plea that he had neither money nor provisions for his
family. "And who might you be?" asked the farmer. "A strik-
ing miner, out of work for many weeks, with the Reserve Fund
of the Union utterly esJhaus'ted, and the strike unadjusted."
"And," inquired the farmer, "why did you strike at first?"
"Because the company," said the miner, with sundry indignant
epithets, "refused to raise our daily wages from one and a half
dollars to one and three-fourths." "So," said the honest far-
mer, "I earned my farm, working at one-half dollar per day,
and you reject work at three times that price. None of my
apples or potatoes are for such as you." The farmer was right.
The acts of the oligarchies are aggravated in injustice 'by the
fact that they were already better paid than the majority
aj^ainst whom they would enhance prices.

The system also carries intrinsic injustice to the capital-

THE LABOB UNION, THE S1BIKB AND THE OOMHUNB. 313

ists in two ways: First, that it demands virtually the right of
maJdng both sides of the bargain in this contract of labor and
wages. Each party is -entitled to make his own side of the bar-
gain; or if the offer made him from the other side does not suit
him, to withdraw. There is no visible limit to the degree of this
injustice. Strikers say they strike, because wages go below the
limit of comfortable support. But what is a comfortable sup-
port for a working man? If the strikers are to decide, it may
mean Havana cigars, canvassJback ducks and truffles, with Cha-
ttau Margaux wine. The system encourages limitless extrava-
gance and waste; all at the expense of other people's capital
and of the other parts of the working public; second, the capi-
talists in selling the products of their factories, have to sub-
mit to the great law of supply and demand. But the laborers, in
selling their labor to the capitalists, insist on evading that law.
There is no equity there.

As to the rights of public order and of other la'borers, the
system tends constantly and violently to pass from a method of
mutual protection, into a criminal conspiracy. The sole ob-
ject of a threatened strike is to compel employers to pay prices
for labor in advance of these indicated by supply and demand.
If the supply were not full, demand alone would raise the price
of labor, and the strike would be superfluous. Now, the strik-
ers, as free men, have an undoubted right to decline work and
wages they think unfair. They may be very unwise in declin-
ing; but it is their right.. And here their right ends. But if the
policy stops there, the employers will naturally defend them-
selves from this coercion, by going into the labor market and
hiring at the market price that substituted help which the full
supply offers. Thus, if the strike stops where the lawful rights
of the strikers end, it is inevitably futile. Of course then it will
not stop there. They will go farther to violate the rights of oth-
ers, who have an indefeasible right to take up any lawful work
and wages they choose. Strikers will go to attack this right,
by "boycotting," by obloquy, by threats, by terrorism, by vio-
lence, by murder. And when dynamite is introduced to punish
with death innocent persons, happening to use the appliances of
obnoxious employers, the crime is worthy only of devils. Tlo
sum up: If the equal rights of other laborers to accept the
work and wages rejected are respected; strikes are futile. If

ni4 THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE.

those rights are obstructed by force, strikes are criminal con-
spiracies. And our point is that the latter is their logical ten-
dency. Unfortunately, the frequency of these outrages as the
sequels of strikes, fully confirms the charge. In fine, only three
modes are possible for adjusting the wages of labor and interest
of capital.' One is to leave the adjustment, under equitaible
laws, which shall hold laborer and property-holder equals, to
the great law of supply and demand. The second is, to have the
Government fix maximum and minimum prices by statute. The
third is to leave these combination of laborers and employers
against each other. For, if the one combine, of course the oth-
ers will. The second plan is mischievous despotism. See its
working in the French Revolutions. The third splits society
into warring factions, and tends to barljarism.

Such is an impartial estimate of the tendencies of the
"Trades Unions." The gravity of the prospect is increased;
when we consider the passionate determination of their mem-
bers. They seem more and more in love with their plans and
cherish them as their final and complete hope. We are told
that the movement spreads continually. It has its propagand-
ists and newspapers. It confederates the different branches of
mechanical labor more and more widely. It aspires to hold
the balance of power in elections, and will before long, claim to
control legislatures and congresses.

Will primary education be its antidote? The negative to
this hope seems to be pronounced by the fact, that, thus far,
thesa projects have grown just as primary education has extend
ed, and precisely in the places which most rejoice in its mean.><.
The same discouragement follows from observing the species of
development produced — an initial grade of knowledge and intel-
ligence, just adequate to the suggestion of a number of unsatis-
fied desires, and the adoption of the shallow plausibilities of
sophistical theories for their gratification; while the breadth of
wisdom needed to show the hollowness of them has not been
attained; and this dangerous Sciolism is aggravated by the self-
sufiBciency inspired by a conceit of culture. This primary
education exactly prepares a population for the reading and ac-
ceptance of superficial newspapers. Without the circulation of
newspapers, there would be no "Trades Unions" and no strikes
of any moment. The primary school and the newspaper press

THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 315

play into each others hands in assisting these dangerous organ-
izations. In human hands all the best things are perverted to
some mischievous uses, and here we have the perversions of
these two good things, the School and the Press. The primary
school enables the yDuth to read. Poor human nature usually
craves the less wholesome pabulum for its powers, and here,
the superficially cultivated reader uses his little talent to read
the newspaper, instead of his Bible. The demagogue, the de-
signing agitator sees at once in the newspaper an engine for
swaying Just such minds, and he make^ one low, sophisticjal
and shallow enough tD suit his audience. Thus the country
has its literature of "Strikes," Communism, Confiscation and
Dynamite, with myriads of readers.

The more rapid prDgress of the late Confederate States, in
the creation and accumulation Df wealth, as demonstrated by
the successive census returns of 1840, 1850 and 1860, was ac-
counted for, in part, by the absence of strikes. The Negro la-
borers could not cDmbine; the white found no motive to do so.
Thus far the emancipated NegrDes have not formed this species
of Trades'. Unions by the race lines. But the Southern people
are now magnanimously giving them a universal common
school education. The result will be, as sure as the cycle of the
seasons, that before long they will also form their Dwn "trades'
unions" on the "color line." They will form them, because their
partial culture will exactly prepare them for their sophisms
and attractions; because they have already shown a marked ten-
dency toward co-operative associations, and a passionate fond-
ness for them; because, as now free laborers, they must feel
the stimuli to that course, now almost omnipotently felt by
white artisans among us. They will form them on the "color
line," if for no other reason, because the whites have already
applied that line everywhere in their trades' unions, and that
with a passionate vigor.

One of the future problems and perils of the country
is this race contest. Where the industrial centers have a mil-
lion of Negroes, educated up to the use of the stump-speech, the
radical newspaper and the revolver, closely organized in trades'
unions, then the peace of the country will hang in constant sus-
pense.

Two antidotes have been proposed for the poisons involved

316 THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE.

in these unions. One is, the application of the co-operativM
plan, which has been so successfully applied in England in the
work of "distribution," to the industries of preduction? In
retail distribution, the Rochdale plan has, indeed, wrought
wonders, at least in England. It is still to be seen whether the
system can be made to work among Americans, with their eager
and intense individuality.

But there appears, on reflection, a fatal difiBculty when we
attempt to apply it to industries of production. It proposes to
identify the relations and interests of the employers and the la-
borers. It says, these shall be as truly stockholders in the joint
concern, and capitalists, as those. But, unfortunately, the dif-
ference between employers and laborers, between the property-
class and the property-less class, has arisen out of natural and
acquired differences of personal attribute, for changing which
the methods of co-operation are as weak as "the Pope's bull
against the comet." In a country lilce this, where the laws are
already equal, the whole difference between those who have
property, and those who have not, has been made by the pres-
ence, or lack of "talents of acquisition" in themselves or their
parents. The well-to-do families are so, because their working
members have energy, skill, prudent foresight, self-denial as
also, perhaps, selfishness. Especially does the creation of
"saved-up capital," the feature which makes the man an em-
ployer instead of an employe, depend on self-denial. The com-
mon proverb says : "Riches oome more by saving than by mak-
ing.'' Political economy teaches the same; showing us that each
man's saved-up capital represents exactly so much self-denial,
either in him or his forefathers, in reserving present income
from the indulgence of present desires, for the distant and re-
mote uses of capital in the future.

Again, sagacity in applying, in investing, in using the
previous savings, is more important than either rapid skill in
earning, or self-denial in not spending. Here is your rapid, effec-
tive worker, who does earn large wages. Neither does he eat
them up in immediate indulgeneies. His mind is keenly bent
on accumulation. But somehow, his money is ever ^'put into
bags with holes." Has ventures in investment are ill chosen
and unlucky. He has an infinite amount of mental activities
about plans and investments, but he ever lacks that "mother-

THE LABOR UNION, THE 8TRILE AND THE OOMMtJNE. 317

wit," that sagacious insight, which is a natural gift. And this
picture is seen, in this country, more frequently than the in-
stances of 'poverty from sheer indolence.

Now, if the industry is to be truly co-operative — i{ the
smaller shareholders are not to be deprived of their votes in it,
and directed both in their labors and the use of their earnings,
by the will of the large capitalist in the concern — which means,
simply their slavery — these votes which represent rashness, un-
thrift, self-indulgence, imprudence, must be equivalent with the
votes of the sagacious — of course, then, "the concern" mu8t
come to grief; This directive will, which represents the aggre-
gation of all the unwise who have remained among the small,
or laboring shareholders, simply Tsecause they are unwise, can-
not compete with the rival concern, which is directed by the
best ^practical wisdom. The co-operative factory will be a fail-
ure; and the association will dissolve in disgust of mind, where
the factory of the successful capitalist will succeed. The resolve
that the present plan shall be replaced by co-operative factories,
which shall succeed, amounts simply to this: "Resolved, that
all laborers have the personal attributes of a Peter Cooper!"
Nature and Providence concur to make men unequal ; they can-
not be made equal by the "resolutions" of theorists.

Once more: however co-operative, a factory must have exe-
cutive officers, directors, salesmen, treasurers. These must
handle all its earnings and assets. Supposing the system to re-
ceive the wide extension necessary for its healing fully the rela-
tions of labor and capital, shall we find enough Aonest laboring
men In America to fill all these responsible places? Or would
so large a portion of the ventures break down through defalca-
tions of officials, as to spoil the experiment? The morals of the
strike system do not aeem very well adapted to breed strict hon-
esty!

The other proposal is, that the quarrels of labor and capi-
tal shall be prevented, by making the National Government it-
self the general industrial manager. The Democratic theory is,
that the Government reflects the combined will of all the peo-
ple. This, then, is the right agency to direct industrial pur-
suits. Let the Government Tse in place of the corporations and
capitalists.

Here several plain thoughts give us pause :

318 THE LABOR PNION, THE STRIKE ANO THE COMMtTNE.

First. If this plan will be g03d, it will be because the Gov-
ernment direction will be better than that of the corporation or
personal will. • If, then, the Grovemment is to confer this ad-
vantage on some industries, it must confer it on all. Otherwise
we shall introduce inequalities and favoritisms most odious to
Democratic theory. If it undertakes to operate all industries,
it becomes a worse than Chinese despotism, a machine so vast
as to crush out all individuality, and to break down hopelessly
by its own weight.

Second. The success of the Government's management in
all these industries must depend supremely on the competency
and honesty of the Government's oflBcials. They must consti-
tute an immense host. Personal motives to zeal and fidelity
will be largely annihilated. Is there enough of this high in-
tegrity in America, to work the huge machine? The present
Government seems to have a deal of trouble in finding enough
honest officials for its present small functions!

Third. The Government ia practically represented in the
person of the magistrate. But, by the nature of Government,
•'he beareth the sword." His power is essentially punitive.
Tramsgressions against his will must be held as "crimes" and
"misdemeanors." Shall his industrial functions as the man-
ager of numberless laborers be enf 3rced by this species of sanc-
tion? Shall the Government hold that the employee who has
not watched his power loom, or chiseled his stone aright, is to
be corrected as the petty larcener is? If not, how else? Un-
der slavery, this negligent laborer might have 'been corrected
by the birch; under our present hireling system, he is cor-
rected by dismissal; but under this Governmental plan all in-
dustries, as we saw, must be equally the Government's; and
whither shall it dismiss the lazy employ t1 To banishment from
his country? Hardly. To idleness? If he is still to have from
the Government his subsistence, this would be a mockery of
punishment; rather a reward for idleness aad an injustice to the
true workers. There appears no mode of dealing for this in-
dustrial Government, except to treat defect of work in the citi-
zens as larceny is treated.

This suggests the fourth and hardest question of all. If
Government is to tje general, not to say universal, industrial
agent, it must see to it that all whom it employs and subsists do

THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THR COMMUNE. 319

their honest share of the work. For otherwise, the idlers would
be rewarded for their sin by being set up as an aristocracy above
the faithful workers, to live at ease at the others' expense. Each
citizen then must be held responsible to Government for |the
diligent and useful employment of his time, under some eiHcient
penalty. But the "Government" as such is an abstraction,
which, directly touches no man. It must act through persons
clothed with official power. The meaning, then, would be that
the citizens must answer to some officeholder, representing this
sovereign Government, under some 'penalty, for doing his share
of work. But this means slavery it is its exact definitions. The
conception of this governmental plan is communistic; and ev-
ery thoughtful man knows that communism means either an-
archy or slavery. It may be objected: The Government'e
clerks and postmasters now work precisely under that system,
and are not slaves. The reply is first, that probably they some-
times do feel that they are virtual slaves; but chiefly, that they
become employis of Government now by their own free appli-
cation, and may resign when they feel oppressed by their sU'
periors, and thus free themselves by returning to private life.
But on the plan discussed, all this would be different; the Gov-
ernment would be compelled to exact the adhesion of its work-
ers, — as it does of its conscripted soldiers, whose condition is
that of bondage for their term of service — and to refuse this
privilege of resigning.

There appears then, no remedy, except in the firm and just
administration of the laws, coupled with wise and equitable
commercial and industrial legislation and the propagation of
industry — economy and contentment among the people by
means of Christian principles. There is no attitude for the
Government towards "strikes" except the legal and righteous
one. If operatives choose to form a society to forward their
own interests, they have a right to do so, provided they do not
infringe other people 's. If the society chooses to "quarrel with
their own bread and butter" by rejecting a certain work at cer-
tain wages ; they have a right to do so. But their recent employers
have equal right to go into the labor market and hire others for that
work at those wages; and all other laborers have equal right to that
work if they are willing to the wages.

The moment the "union" goes an inch beyond the mere

320 THE 1A60S UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNJe.

withdrawal — the moment it begins to obstruct, terrorize, or
beat, or murder the employers and the new employes, it has be-
come a criminal conspiracy ; the State should put it down with
as prompt and firm a hand as they would put down highway)
robbery or foreign invasion. Ta the clear and just mind this is
clear. But is there any American State which performs this
duty? Alas no! We are more likely to see the State Governors
corresponding with and conciliating the "strike," the powea-
whose very end of existence is "to be a terror to evil doers,"
bowing to the conspiracy of evil-doers, who ought to be bowed
before the majesty of the law. Pitiful sight!

Property is always cautious, apparently timid, at the be-
ginning of collisions, for it is conscious it is valuable; it has
much to lose. But, because it has much to lose, property always
defends itiself resolutely when pressed to the wall. And when
the period of caution has passed, property defends itself success-
fully. For money is power, and the talents of acquisition
which gained the money are power. One thing has already
become clear to the thought of property: that when the hour of
forcible defense comes, the militia of the States will be worth-
less. They are too near the rioters. Property will invoke, as
the only adequate force, the standing army of the Uelted
States. And, as the industrial centers are numerous and popu-
lous, the United States must have a large, a widely difEu^edi
standing army ia invoke. Thus the property-holder will be
educated by his needs and experiences in the hour of trial, to
thiifk of his State as the Cipher, the Washington Government
as the only Power. The discontented classes, who must at last
be restrained by force, will be educated to regard State author-
ity as a shadow, and Federal authority as the substantial fear.
The surest result of the approaching strife will thus be to com-
plete the practical extinction of State sovereignty, and the con-
solidation of the federation into one empire. It will be an em-
pire governing by the bayonet.

THE DEPRHSSION OF AMERICAN FARMING
INTERESTS.

By Robert L. Dabney, D.D., LL. D.,

Professor of Moral and Mental Philosophy and Political
Science.

This depression is real and great, at least when compared
with the other industrial interests of the country. The life of
our tillers of the soil may not be so sordid as that of the Egyp-
tian Pellahin, or of the Irish cotter tenants, but they receive
less than their comparative share of the material rewards of
labor. This is enough to constitute the offense both against
public justice and security. It is an outrage of the equities
which a boastful popular government should secure alike for
all its classes. It is as real a ground of perilous discontents in
the great farming classes. This deipression is proved: (1) By
comparing the wages of other industries with those of farm la-
bor: A puddler in an iron mill earns ten or more dollars per
day, a bricklayer in this city demands $130 per month, a house
carpenter or stone-cutter $70 per month; but in the most pros-
perous part of the Southwest, the farm laborer receives at most
$20 per month, with plain rations; in the old Atlantic States,
the best farm laborer receives |8 per month and rations. Able-
bodied women servants receive from 15 to 18 cents per day, with
rations. But the strongest point is that the profits O'f agricul-
ture cannot bear even these wretched wages. It is the almost
invariable experience of employers, that the staple crops pro-
duced with hired labor, even at these wages, bring the capital-
ists to insolvency; and usually, the only producers who escape
this result are those who till their crops by the unpaid labor of

322 THE DEPRESSION Of AMEEIOAN FARMING INTERBSTS.

themselves and their children. This relative depression is prDv-
ed: (2) By comparing rustic with town life. Both classes have,
their paupers; but our comparison is drawn between the two
great middle classes in rural and in town life, who employ some
capital with some measures of persistent labor in the attempt
to create values in the two spheres. The condition of the
country family, as to long hours of labor, dress, food, dwelling
and furniture equipage, amusements and recreations, is found
to be comparatively hard and sordid. But the comparative con-
ditions of town life in all these respects are easy, handsome, and
even luxurious. The non-agricultural industries and employ-
ments of capital somehow enable those occupied by them to
spend five fold as much in the superfluities of life. A fair typi-
cal instance may be found in the 'history of such a migration as
was occurring forty years ago in New England in tens of thou-
sands of cases. Two brothers, with the same blood in their veins
and the same education, sold and divided the old New England
homestead to migrate to Illinois. Each had the same capital —
say $3,500. One became a Chicago trader, the other a prairie
farmer. The success of each has been neither above nor below
the average of his class. We compare them at the end of forty
years. The Chicago man is living in a brownstone front, faring
sumptuously every day, indulging his. family freely in fashion-
able amusements, regarding a five dollar opera ticket for each
member of his family as an entirely reasonable indulgence : the
pater familias assures us, with a smile of superiority, that he
cotJld not think of keeping house in Chicago on leas than some
$7,000 per annum. It does not at all follow that he has created
or amassed wealth: perhaps if he were forced into liquidation
he would not be found the real owner of the f3,500 he first
brought to the city, but the luxurious house-keeping goes on
just the same, with its enormous annihilation of values in un-
productive consumption; of which the only sDlution is that he
is consuming values created by other people's industry and cap-
ital, which he extorts from them by the jugglery of our Ameri-
can free institutions. Let us now seek out his brother, the prai-
rie farmer. We find him on the little prairie farm which he
bought with his patrimony forty years before, living in a board
cottage. By virtue of an unusual diligence and prudence he is
not mortgaged, and in consequence of the appreciation in the

THB DBPRE8S10N OI* AMERIOAK FARMING INTERESTS. 323

price of his land, possesses probably $5,000 or $6,000. He still
dresses in working men's clothes and cowhide boots, drives his
own wagon and plow six days in every week and takes a hand
in all the hardest forms of farm labor. His hands are homy
and his joints ungainly and stiff with toil. His meals are plen-
tiful, but coarse, for the demands of taxes, commissions and
wages require the sale of the larger part of the butter and poul-
try produced by his thrifty farm. His best equipage is his spring-
wagon, drawn by plough horses; the most lavish amusement of
his family, an occasional visit to the fifty-cent circus. His
household contains no hired domestic; wife and daughters are
the only indoor drudges. His family subsist upon about $600
per annum. I am aware that these truthful pictures are usually
met with the cry that "skilled labor" deserves, and by inevita-
ble economical law must receive, higher wages.

It is claimed that the labor of the artisan and of commerce
is skilled labor, while rustic labor is unskilled. Now, this is
what I expressly deny; and I am supported by the best econo-
mists. It is true that this Chicago trader has become skilled in
certain little arts of cornering markets, inflating commissions,
of which his rustic brother has remained ignorant, greatly to his
credit. But the prairie farmer has developed higher intellectual
skill and more varied resources, in place of the petty-fogging
arts of the trader. He 'has learned the wisdom of the practical
"crop-master," including a knowledge of the climate, seasons,
soils, manures, modes of tillage, crops, and is yearly exercising
upon these data the wide sagacity of the inductive philosopher.
He has become a veterinary surgeon, an orchardist, a dairyman,
a machinist, besides practicing a half dozen distinct trades. Ou
his winter evenings he has read many more, and inore solid,
books than his brother.

Or let the artisan be compared with the farm laborer. We
may be pointed to the dty bricklayer, who exacts for one month
of his labor six; months' wages of his country brother. Oh! we
shall be told, his is skilled labor! "See with what rapid dex-
terity he spreads a trowel full of mortar and lays brick after
brick accurately to the line. The country bumpkin cannot do
that!" I reply: Put a weeding-hoe into this bricklayer's hands
and put him to chopping out cotton. Let us see whether he can
cnt away a sprig of "crop-grass" from within one-quarter of an

324 THE DEPRESSION OP AMERICAN JABMING INTBBSsTS.

inch of the cotton plant, without injuring the tender stalk. Give
him a cotton bag and let us see whether he can accomplish one-
sixth part of'a man's daily picking. Set him to harness, to ad-
just and to operate a mowing machine with a spirited pair of
horses. He will be a fortunate bricklayer if he escapes the first
morning without being sawn asunder by his own cutter blade.
The truth is, while the artisan practices a few very handsome
dexterities, the good farm laborer must practice a score; of
which each one is as hard to learn as the dexterities of the me-
chanic.

(3) The steaay and alarming drift of the American popula-
tion from country to town reveals the depression of the farm-
ing interests. This transfer has now assumed frightful propor-
tions. In 1790, of that American people which established its
independence by revolution, one-third of one per centum lived
in towns of 8,000 population or more. Since then, the steady
and increasing drift has proceeded, until, in 1890, 25 per cent.,
or one-fourth of our whole population, is collected into towns
and cities. Meantime, towns and villages under 8,000 people
have been multiplied two hlindredths. But these also give only
the conditions of urban life. This transfer of population has
been long continued, and is increasing rapidly. It has a cause.
Our own observation shows us that nearly every American
young man strives to quit the land and rush to the town. Some
would fain persuade us that this drift does not result from the
comparatively hard conditions of country life, but from the so-
cial'attractions of towns, and from the ill-informed imagina-
tions of the country youth, ignorant of the trials and failures of
town life, and flattered with visions of easy and rapid wealth.
This solution is not correct. Rural life has also its natural at-
tractions, which ought to be more vivid and alluring than the
garish shows of the city : the attractions of azure skies, of green
fields and forests, of country sports, by field and stream, of
horse-back exercise, and of the tender and sacred associations of
home. Healthy young natures respond keenly to these. Were
they free to act they should easily countervail the tawdry seduc-
tions of the theater, concert room, and saloons. A few days'
experience of these would wear off all the tinsel of novelty: the
young spirit would quickly revert to its more natural attrac-
tions. Nor is it true, that American youths are ignorant of the
real conditions of city life, or be fooled with idle visions of its

THE DBPRBSSION OF AMERICAN FABMING INTBEB8T8. 325

glories. Country people know more of the cities than city peo-
ple do of the country. No newspapers are printed in the coun-
try. It is the cities which print them, and the country people
universally read them. No, our young pe3ple are well aware of
whatever is hard in the conditions of city life, but they weJl
know that the conditions of country life are harder; therefore
they crowd the cities.

(4) This depressi3n is revealed by the deep discontents of
the farming population. In our day they find a renewed and
ever widening expression. Some years ago the Granger move-
ment spread over America, and engaged the interests of nearly
the whole farming population. Now we have the gigantic and
more determined movement of the Farmers' Alliance. We see
this confounding the clearest lines of national parties, driving
the most trusted statesmen from their seats of 'power, and urg-
ing their passionate demands for redress. Let none deceive
themselves and mock at these mighty movements as blind or
futile. Let none flatter themselves that farmers' cannot com-
biiie effectively. This may be true or untrue, yet unquestionably
wi' see here the symptoms of a terrible and deep disturbance.

Whether this feverish body is destined to be wise or not, it
is still vast. It represents the industry of 10,000,000 of working
hands, and the direct subsistence of more than 30,000,000 of
souls; indirectly it is the foundation of all other industries; the
values which it creates furnish the whole material handled by
all other industries, manufacturing or commercial. It is the
only source of the food and raiment'Of all. It may be that this
huge or pressed mass is to be compared to the Titan Enceladus,
upon whose breast Jove piled up the whole bulk of Mount
Aetna. Like Enceladus, it may not be able to throw off the
super-incumbent burden, and yet its convulsions may throw!
lava streams of anarchy and revolution, which will rend the
whole superstructure and burn up the luxurious vineyards and
gardens which bedeck its upper surface.

II.

This depression and displacement of the farming popula-
tion should be the subject of grief and alarm. All orders of the
.\merican people are vitally interested in this evil.

First, this undue drift to urban life is injurious to the pub-

326 THB DEPRESSION OF AMKRICAN FARMING INTERESTS

lie wealth. I shall not say with the old exploded French school
of Econonaists, that agricultural Industries are the only ones
which really create new values. I admit that the mechanical
and commercial industries create increments of value in the ag-
ricultural products upon which alDne they operate. But the
pretended industry of such middlemen as really contribute noth-
Ihing to the perfecting and circulation of commodities is an un-
productive nuisance. Such middlemen are scarcely found at
all in the ranks of agricultural industry. It is in the traflSc of
towns that they intrude themselves successfully. These are the
human hives in which these drones are found in needless num-
bers, consuming, but producing no honey. We have seen, also
that the tendencies of American life in towns are far more lux-
urious than in the country. Town life consumes unproductively
a far larger share of the values created in the society than does
country life, by Its ever increasing and insatiable pomps of liv-
ing and amusement. Again, urban life in America is a terri-
ble consumer of the human species; its bills of mortality show
a large percentage of death. Especially is the American city
a devourer of infant. life. The stifling heats and polluted at-
mosphere of the lanes and alleys inhabited by the poor in mid-
summer sweep away the innocents almost as fast as they come
into the world.

Perhaps it is the vice of our American home life that only
a small part of the youth reared in cities grow into habits of
steady industry. The ranks of city business have to be con-
tinttally refilled from the country. The sons and grandsons of
those who have prospered In town are unable to perpetuate
their parents' prosperity. Some are sybarites, some are sots.
The country has to be drained afresh of its sturdy sons in order
to replenish the ranks of industry. Jefferson did not much
mistake when he declared, "That great cities are but great ul-
cers upon the body politic." The urban population become un-
safe depositories for political power.

The minute specification of occupations breeds a narrow
one-sidedness of mind, the people with a great conceit of their
own intelligence, become overweening and excitable; revolu-
tions always begin in cities. It is always municipal politics which
first breed political corruption in America. A Tammany could
only exist in a great city. Once more history shows that the

THI DBPEESSION OF AMBEIOAN FARMING INTERESTS. 327

martial virtues grow chiefly among the rural population. Shall
we be reminded of the New York Seventh regiment and sim-
ilar amateur corps in our pompous cities. What part have these
performed in actual warfare? A lafge portion of their
rank and file was born and reared in the country. Cromwell
found the London train bands in the parliamentary army of no
account in the shocks of battle. Their ranks were filled, he
says, chiefly with decayed tapsters and serving men, the squad-
rons of Prince Eupert, formed of country gentlemen, rode them
down like herds of sheep. Convinced that the liberties of his
country could never be defended by such soldiers as these,
Cromwell went into the country of Huntingdonshire and there
recruited his regiment o-f Ironsides from the sons of the yeoman
freeholders. Thus he formed that terrible body, which carried
victory upon its bayonet through every subsequent battlefield,
which never met an enemy, whether it was the chivalry of Eng-
land, of France or of Spain, without both defeating and de-
stroying him. The Stonewall brigade was recruited by Jackson
from the sons of the farmers in the Valley of Virginia. Indeed,
the armies of the Confederacy were all armies of the. farmers;
and such was their powers that it required a gigantic struggle
of four years to enable the plutocracy and proletariat of the
combined world to overthrow them. But they, with their sys-
tem of rural life, have been suppressed.

Woe to the land, to gathering ills a prey
Where wealth increases, and where men decay.

^Goldsmith. ,

III.

Every patriot, consequently, should wish to find a remedy
for this continental evil of agricultural depression; but a remedy
can only be found by ascertaining the causes of the disease. If
bur efforts are directed to a mistaken cause, they will work only
evil and not benefit.

I do not, for instance, find the cause of this depression in
the existing volume of American currency: nor do I see any
hope of a remedy in its inflation. Every true friend of the far-
mer sees his hopes directed to this false quarter with sorrow.
For we are aware all history and science prove that such in-
flation can only aggravate the evils which now gall him into
justifiable resentment. So evident is this to persons well in-

828 THE DEPEESSIOIT OV AMEEICAN EAEMING INTHRE8T8

formed, that when they see the pretended advisers of the Alli-
ance misleading it in this direction, it is hard to suppress the
suspicion that they are the hrihed agents of the real oppres-
sors of the country, practicing to perpetuate their domination
bv misdirecting the efforts of the sufferers.

But would not inflation of currency enable the farmer to
sell his products at a higher nominal price? Yes, for a time, but
af a deadly ulterior cost to the farmer.

For first, that inflatiDn of currency which would raise the
nominal price of the farmer's products must at the same time
raise the price of all the other commodities which the farmer
wishes to purchase.

Let us suppose that inflation enahles him to sell the cotton
hale; which hefore had hrought him $40, for |80. He must now
pay at least |80 for $40 worth of those goods which he needed to
buy with that cotton hale for his farm and family. What has
he gained hy the change except the childish amusement, or more
prohahly the fatigue of counting twice as many dollars?

But second, when inflation shall have raised the nominal
price of his cotton hale to $80 he will not he ahle to purchase
that return of commodities for his farm and family for $80,
more prohahly he will have to pay $100 for them. For it is an
estahlished fact in history that when inflation is proceeding,
land values and their ppDducts respond more slowly to the
stimulus of prices than other species of goods. There is a plain
reason for this: The farmer's values cannot he made to change
hands so quickly as the commodities of the merchant, and as
everyhody knows that this rise of price, stimulated by inflation,
is precariDUS and must be temporary. Nobody is so foolish as to
venture a full increase of price upon these slowly moving land
values. This was exactly verified in 1862, when the rapid in-
flation of the Confederate currency was stimulating prices. The
prices of lands and negroes had scarcely began to move percep-
tively, when those of mercantile commodities had heen inflated
four or five hundred per cent. Thus it must ever be, by the
time inflatiDn shall have raised the price of the farmer's cot-
ton bale from $40 to $80 it will have raised the prices of the
goods which he must purchase with that cotton bale to flOO
or $120.

Third. Inflation of currency must always be temporary.

THE DEPRESSION OP AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. 329

Like a fever in a natural body, it must cure itself after a short
time or kill the patient. This has been the history of every in-
flation, ancient or modern. There is a reason for this, as un-
erring and absolute as the gravity which makes rivers run down
hill. So, a portion of the money In the region of inflation must
immediately begin to flow out into neighboring societies, where
currency is not inflated. Why do unthinking people desire in-
flation? Because it raises prices. But this means simply that
the money now has less purchasing power within the region of
inflation than without it. And now the self-interest of every hu-
man being who has any of this money prompts him to send it
away from the place where it has less purchasing power to the
places where it has more. If it were found that cotton could be
sold for more in Galveston than in Liverpool, by the amount
of any margin above the freight and insurances, eotton would
immediately begin to come back from Liverpool to Galveston.
But of all commodities, money is the quickest to respond to this
inevitable law of trade, because it is the most readily handled
of all. Unless a society cuts itself off absolutely from all busi-
ness relations with all other societies, it is as impossible for it
to maintain permanent inflation as for the engineer to sustain a
permanent mountain of water upon the fluctuating bosom of the
Gulf. Inflation sooner or later cures itself, and with it nominal
prices decline again.

In the fourth place, when this eonstriction of currency be-
gins, money appreciates in value; that is to say, its purchasing
power is now increasing; but commodities depreciate in value.
That is to say, any given quantity of them demands less money.
But the money, which is appreciating, is chiefly in the hands of
the money-lending and trading classes. It is the commodities
which are depreciating which are in the hands of the agricul-
tural classes. Thus, whenever the inevitable constriction be-
gins, it is they who, lose and the trading classes who gain. In-
flation has encouraged the farming classes to make debts; these
must now be paid off with their crops and lands at depreciated
prices. Thus again it is the farmers who suffer. Some will ask,
perhaps, why prudent foresight could not be exercised in view
of the coming constriction, so as to adjust one's business to it,
and avoid these losses. I answer: It is precisely the money-
lending and trading classes who are in a position to exercise

330 THE DKPRESSION OF AMEEICAN FARMING INTKKESTS.

that foresight, and it is predsely the farmers who are not. These
live scattered through the country; they are engrossed with
their crops and stock; they are the last to learn the news of
the approaching constriction of currency and changes of values.
Even if they forsee, they find themselves in no condition to
make beneficial use of their foresight, because the money, which
is appreciating, they have not ready ; the commodities which are
depreciating are chiefly what they have to dispose of. But the
trading classes live in the centers of financial news. They are
the first to learn of coming changes; ready money is the crop
which they handle. Hence it is they who are sijre to make ad-
vantage of the fluctuations. Inflation is bad for the business
and bad for the morals of all classes ; but it is worst of all for
the farmers.

Our country has lately seen an exact illustration of these
principles brought out upon a gigantic scale. The Federal cur-
rency which replaced the Confederate in 1865 was a paper cur-
rency inflated about fifty per cent. This inflation, according to
the universal rule,, cured itself. The greenback dollar approach-
ed more and more nearly in value to the gold dollar until, in
1872, one was equal to the other, and specie payments were
spontaneously resumed. No law was passed by State or Fed-
eral government to force that result. The financial wiseakers
seemed afraid to legislate about it. Specie resumption came of
itself. The gold room died of itself and was closed. Some may
attempt to argue that the result was not spontaneous, but was
virtmally forced by the legislation of the radical party contract-
ing the volume of the Federal treasury notes during those years.
It is true the lavish issue made of those notes during the war
was arrested; a large part of them were redeemed and with-
drawn from circulation, but every dollar thus withdrawn was
redeemed with some other kind of circulating dollars, silver,
gold or national bank notes; and there was nothing to forbid
these from entering the circulation and filling the precise place
there of the treasury notes withdrawn. Again, silver and gold
mining was revived and rapidly extended during those years,
throwing into the veins of the national circulation annually
multiplying millions of the money metals. Still again, during
those years a high war tariff was enforced. The avowed tew
dency of such tariffs is to create the so-called "balance of trade"

THB DEPRESSION OF AMEEIOAN FARMING INTERESTS. 331

wbicb causes foreign currency instead of imported commodities
in large part to flow into the "protected" country. And last
tbe chaste national banking law was in full force, offering un-
limited incorporation to all creditors of the government, and
enticing tbem to use tbe banking privilege freely to issue na-
tional bank notes by tbat cunning arrangement wbich enabled
tbe bond-bolders "to eat tbeir cake and baveit too." Notbing
buttbenaturalandinevitableprinciplesofcurrency restricted the
indefinite multiplication of national bank notes. Tbis inflation
cured itself, witbout tbe aid of buman legislation or any force
from without. Let us now look at tbe consequences of this con-
striction upon the planters of tbe country. Cotton was con-
tinually depreciating in price, while money was appreciating.
Debts created at tbe inflated figures must now be paid with tbe
proceeds of cotton sold at declining figures. Tbe crop mort-
gages consumed tbe substance of the planters witb a more dead-
ly voracity from year to year, until at tbe end of tbe period
money lenders and commission merchants owned all tbat was
left and the planters were paupers. Tbe old proverb saith:
•'Dame experience keeps a good school, though a hard one" ; but
it is the only one fools will learn in. Tbe leaders who are now
attempting to seduce tbe Farmers' Alliance into schemes of in-
flation evidently give tbeir pupils credit for even a less amount
of brains than is found in tbe unfortunate alumni of the severe
dame.

2nd. Tbe earliest cause of tbe decay of tbe American farm-
ing interests was tbe overthrow of tbe labor system of the Soutli
by tbe war between the States and its consequent measures. T
feel no fear of offending any political sensibilities when citing
this cause, since it is introduced not for its political bearings,
but solely for its economic Instruction, and since I cite no facts
except those given by tbe government of tbe United States it-
self. The census returns of that government testify that up to
1860 the Southern labor system had been most fruitful and most
productive of public and private wealth of any labor system in
tbe country. In 1860 the South, witb a little more than 12,000,-
000 of souls, possessed taxable values to tbe amount of $6,760,-
000,000. In 1880, while tbe souls were 17,000,000, tbe taxable
values amounted in round numbers to $3,250,000,000. That tbis
immense collapse of wealth had not been the work chiefly of

332 THE DEPRESSION Or AMERICAX ITAIIMING iBTEKESTri.

war is proved by the testimony of the government, whose cen-
sus in 1870 found the Southern people still possessed of taxable
values to the amount of about $4,780,000,000. The Southern la-
bor system had been destroyed, and with it this fruitful foun-
tain of national wealth was dried up to flow no more. I pre-
sume no one can be so unthinking as to suppose that this result
affected the South alone. The profits of civilized society are
reciprocal. When men wish to prosper they must "live and let
live." Commodities produced beyond the actual wants of the
producer are of no value unless there is somewhere a demand
for thtm. Without an exterior demand they must rot unsold.

It is not merely the presence of numerous people with hun-
gry desires which creates commercial demand: these people
must also possess something to buy with, which is a value to
tho vendors. Before 1860 the South, with its lavish production
of wealth, bought lavishly of the products of the States north
of them, and that at liberal prices. They bought directly im.
mense volumes of the agricultural products of those States.
They assisted their agriculture indirectly, also, by buying huge
volumes of their manufactured products. In 1880 there remain-
ed in the South abundance of hungry desires, but little was left
wherewith to buy for their gratification. The agricultural
prostration of the South has reacted against the North by an
inevitable law, as wise Southern statesmen forewarned the
country; measures of reconstruction have been a boomerang,
■ft hich hsi-i rebounded, and struck in the rear only less severely
than in the front. This immense loss to both sections is, of
i:ourse, irreparable: the wisest economic science provides no
remedy for it. An arrogant but brutish pride may tempt men
to avert their eyes from incontestable facts, or even to deny
them, because they cannot now be repaired. But true wisdom
is more humble, as well as more honest, and is glad to learn
from every fact, however mortifying.

3rd. I find a second complicated and powerful set of caus-
es for agricultural depression, which have become almost uni-
versal in America in the form of artificial combinations for
monopolies. Naturally and equitably the ratio of supply and
demand ought to determine the price, which producers shall re-
ceive for any class of services or products they offer. If ono
class of producers can artificially violate the law of supply and

THE DKPRKSSION OF A.MERICAN FARMING INTERKSTS. I^SI:!

demand, this must of course be by throwing the loss upDn con-
sumers of that class of services or values. For instance, let cer-
tain iron workers combine, create an artificial monopoly of their
services and thus inflate their price by means of the restrictive
rules of a labor uniDn, then that element of unjust monopoly
price must be present in the agricultural machine which the
farmer buys. In paying for it he has paid in addition tp the fair
cost of the raw materials, interest on capital, wages of labor-
ers and equitable commercial profit, a further monopoly price
to these laborers, and this remains an uncompensated plunder
upon the farmer's earnings, unless he can create some monopoly
claim upon other fellow citizens by which to "recoup" himself,
but this the farmer can never do. Now most Americans are not
willing to let the equitable law of supply and demand regulate
their gains, hence nearly every industry except the farmers is
now organized into artificial monopolies. The prices of nearly
all of the services of mechanical, manufacturing and mining
labDr are manipulated by the Knights of Labor and other la-
bor unions. The Printers' Typographical Union legislates that
we shall pay more than fair market price for type setting and
thus for all the books and newspapers; medical associations fix
the prices at which we must be physiced; legal associations for-
bid the gravitation of fees for suits tDward that modest price'
which the over-supply of legal talent would otherwise bring
about. The commission merchants foreordain what per cent-
age of charges, real and imaginary, they shall levy upon the
farmer's produce, which are never remitted however disastr(fus
to him their sales of his property may prove. The American
Nail Makers' Association, instead of observing the law of sup-
ply and demand, ordains what we shall pay for each nail driven
in America. The salt makers order the shutting up of nature's
fountains whenever she seems likely to cheapen that article of
prime necessity by a more liberal outflow of her waters. The
Lake Superior ODpper Company legislates that every copper
wire used by Americans shall cost double price of that which
the same company sells Ito Europeans. The Standard Oil Com-
pany inflates the price of petroleum and the other oils and de-
presses that of the farmer's cotton seed. The sugar trust regu-
lates the price at which we shall taste the sweets of life. There
is now a cigarette trust fixing the monopoly price at which our

3S4 THE DEPRESSION OF AMKRICAN PARMING INTKREsTS.

boys shall poison themselves and pollute the atmosphere around
them, the carrying companies of the country make all their
freight ' charges upon the products of agriculture or upon the
return goods which these procure. Nearly all these companies
inflate these charges either by watering their stock and load-
ing their roads with unnecessary bonds, the proceeds of which
they have silently appropriated; and they then load the pro-
duce of the country with such freight charges as shall pay divi-
dends both upon the actual and the fictitious values. Thus ev-
ery such bond or share of stock beyond the actual costs of the
roads and their equipments becomes a perpetual lien upon the
lands and products of the farmers, whom they profess to serve,
levying upon them for all time both a just and an unjust profit.
But the list becomes tiresome, and now its latest addition is the
American Book Publishing Company, which proposes to levy
a monopoly upon the brain food of every boy and girl on the
continent.

The farmers remain one of the two great industries which
has hitherto been unable to combine to engross the earnings of
others, or even to protect itself against engrossers. This, I pre-
sume, is not because the farmers are less intelligent or less hu-
man than the other classes, but because they are so numerous,
so separated by their homes and pursuits, so divided in interest
by geographic and climatic causes, by the wide diversity and
the very immensity of their products. Effective combinations
for monopoly can never become feasible for them. Nor do they
desire them. What they righteously demand is means to protect
themselves against other monopolies. How to do this is a suflBc-
iently hard problem for them.

The other great class of Americans found in the same help-
less condition is the class of home makers. The 10,000,000 of
American wives, mothers and sisters who perform more unre-
mitting toil for smaller compensation than even the tillers of
the soil. It would be well for them to make common cause with
the Farmers Alliance. The other industries manage to overrule
the equitable laws of supply and demand by their artifices, the
farming interests has to accept, for the immense mass of values
it creates, less than the natural law of supply and demand would
apportion them.

4th. It is these unfair conditions which cause the enor-

THl; DEtKKSSION O* AAiKEIOAN fAEMiNG IWTEKESTS. 38B

mous taxation of the American Government to press with such
crushing weight upon the farming interests. It is difficult
to ascertain the real aggregate of the Federal, the State, the
county and the municipal taxes which ourpeople have to Dear.
Enormous sums are levied in the irregular and vague forms of
sheriffs' and clerks' fees. We shall not go far wrong in estimat-
ing the total of $20.00 per capita for every American soul.
These taxes are so diversified and the modes of collection varied
with such ill-starred ingenuity that the victims are scarcely
aware of their own burdens. The average farmer whose family
includes five souls will be much mistaken in supposing that he
gets off by paying one hundred dollars, i. e., $20.00 for each soul
in his house. Many pauper families almost wholly escape ass-
essment. The personal property of the rich is often secreted
from taxation to a shameful extent, but the assets of the farmer
remain visible and palpable. The governments are remorseless
in their demands of the $20.00 froom each soul. Hence those
who have property and who cannot and do not secrete it from
taxation must pay in addition to their own shares the shares of
all the paupers and all the deceivers. No additional words are
requisite" to, show how hardly these exactions must press upon
those industries whose capital and labor are already yielding
the scantiest returns. Suet are the industries of the American
farmer. For,

5. The Federal legislation is so adjusted as to be most in-
imical to his rights and interests. I refer chiefly to the so-called
protective system of the United States, which is the prime
source of the worst evils now crushing the farming interests in
America. I have explained how the various rings and trusts op-
erate to filch away the farmer's earnings without giving him any
just equivalent. It is the tariff which provides the conditions
of success for all these monopolies. As long as these fatal con-
ditions subsist it is not probable that the oppressed classes will
find any remedy. American ingenuity will always invent ways
to evade' the operation of the principles of the common law
against forestalling and regrating, and any statutes passed by
the States and by Congress, in a country burdened with such
an administration of justice as ours. The resort to free trade
would of itself abolish the conditions requisite to the succesB
of these iniquities so that they w-ould perish of themselves. We

336 THE DEPRESSION OF AHEEIOAN FAEMING INTERESTS.

sec, for instance, the new book trust preparing its machinery to
levy a monopoly-profit, in addition to equitable manufacturing
and commercial profits, upon every school child in America.
Let Congress only pass, in one line, the righteous statute remov-
ing all tariffs upon school books, and this gigantic fraud would
be checkmated at once. The best and cheapest .printers in the
world, in Leipsig, Halle, Brussels, Edinburg, would in a few
weeks place in our seaports ship loads of American school
books, printed in our own language, with perfect accuracy, at
half the price of the monopolies.

Every one understands that when the government levies
tariff imposts upon imported goods, the final consumer ot those
goods inevitably pays both the value of those goods, with reason-
able commercial profits thereon, and the tariff tax in addition,
increased by parallel charges of profits and commissions upon
it also.

But the tendency of the system is to enable American pro-
ducers of similar goods to enhance the prices of them also to the
same level. This tendency may be partially checked by mutual
home competition, but here come in all the monopoly rings and
combinations designed to deprive the consumers of this check
of home competition. Were this tendency of tariff laws fully
realized their result would be that consumers would pay as sim-
ple plunder to private fellow-citizens four dollars of unearned
profits for every dollar carried by the tariffs into the Federal
treasury. This is bad enough; but it only reveals the small be-
ginjiings of the injustice wrought by the protective system upon
the great farming classes. To comprehend the whole the reac-
tionary influence of the protective system against the prices of
all the great export staples created by the tillers of the soil must
be clearly understood. By the term "Export Staples" we mean
all those classes of commodities which are produced in Ameri-
ca in larger quantities- than Americans can consume. This
over plus of each class of commodities requires and seeks a for-
eign market, for without this it must only be wasted by need-
lessly lavish use at home or rot unconsumed. Kther result is a
loss to the producers. Let, now, these indisputable facts be
combined: First. International traffic must be mainly barter
of goods for goods; it cannot be mainly the sale of our goodla
for the money of our national neighbors, for only the gold and

Mb depression of amkrioan pabMing interests. 337

silver money of one nation can pass to another for the purchase
of its goods. It is impossible that one nation's paper money
can be made to circulate as currency within another nation. It
is equally impossible that one nation can part annually with
successive portions of its metallic money to pay for the goods of
another natian which it desired to acquire. The reason is abso-
lute: Very soon the volume of metallic currency in the pur-
chasing nation would be relatively so reduced that money would
be aiq)reciated, the prices of commodities depreciated, and fur-
ther importations of them for sale would become impossible.
Such a form of international trade is therefore inevitably self-
arresting. If international trade is to go on at all it must be
the barter of goods for goods. Only so much specie can pass
backwards and forwards as will equalize the small temporary
oscillations in the balance of trade and in stirring exchange.

Second. All tariffs are restrictive upon free international
barter. They are intended to be such. It is their boast to be
such. If they did not operate to restrict the influx of imported
goods, they would utterly fall to operate as protective of home
manufactories. Hence, when the United States enacts that cer-
tain goods' imported from Great Britain shall pay a tariff im-
post, it thereby enacts a restriction upon the volume of such
goods possible to be exported to us by Great Britain.

Third. This at once operates as a restriction upon the pur-
chasing power of all foreign nations as to all our Export Sta-
ples.

It is their interest to purchase freely of our export staples
at good prices, provided we will let them pay in the various
useful goods which they produce at such moderate prices and
which we need. But the tariff system says to them: "No, you
shall not buy freely of our great export staples which we so
much need to sell ; for we will not take freely of those cheap and
useful goods which you produce, and which we need, and with
which alone it is possible for you to pay for what we send you."
Let us instance our cotton crop. It is impossible for American
spinners to consume annually more than two-fifths of it. Shall
the rest rot unspun? Great Britain says to us: We like your
cotton; it is good; we spin something more than 2,000,000 bales
per annum, and cannot rear one pound in England; we are only
loo glad to make you a good market at good prices for that

338 THE DBPEESSION OF AMBEIOAN KAEltING INTEBBStS.

vast portion of your surplus, provided you will let us pay you
in the only thirngs with which it is possible for us to pay, viz:
our cheap and excellent manufactured goods which will be so
useful to you. But now comes in the American tarifE and for-
bids Great Britain doing this g9od part by our cotton surplus.
It sternh restricts the quantity of British goods which can be
sent into America to pay for cotton, and thereby restricts the
purchasing power of Britain as to our cotton. Britain must con-
sequently buy less- of our surplus, and that at reduced prices.

The actual result is that, instead of buying every pound
she spins from us, which she would gladly do, our tariff laws
force her to buy as little as possible from us and at the worst
possible prices, and to seek a supply for her deficit of cotton
from the unfriendly climates of Hindoostan and from Egypt
and Brazil, which are glad to sell the cotton they rear to her
without this senseless restriction. This great instance showis
how surely tariff restrictions oi)erate against the prices of all
our export staples.

Fourth. The foreign price of these staples inevitably rules
the prices of all sold at home. Thus the tariff system, by injur-
ing the price of that portion sold abroad, injures the price of
every bushel and every pound produced upon the whole con-
tinent. Is any one ignorant enough to doubt this? Does not
every intelligent person know that every reaction against the
price of grain in Mark Lane, of tobacco at the London docks,
of cotton in Liverpool, immediately depresses the prices of these
staples in every American city. Let cotton decline five points
in Liverpool to-day; let Hubbard & Price report the price to-
morrow morning on the blackboard of the New York Cotton Ex-
change. Down goes cotton in New York five points. As soon
as the telegraph can bring the news to Galveston, down goes
the price there five points, and by day after to-morrow there
will not be a hamlet in Texas where the retail purchaser will
not insist upon a reduction of five points in his price.

Let us now glance at the quantity of these export staples
created by American tillers of the soil. In 1891 they produced
2,090,000,000 bushels of Indian corn, 640,000,000 bushels of
wheat, more than this quantity of oats, eight and one-third mil-
lions of bales of cotton, 8,000,000,000 pounds of tobacco, be-
sides dairy products, beef products, hog products, naval stores

THi Dkprbssion ofamkrioan farming intbbests 339

and other commDdities. The selling price of all this immense
mass of values has been depressed against the tillers of the »oil
bj this reflex operation of tariff laws. And for what end? That
inflated and unrighteous profits may be piled up in the pockets
of a few thousand manufacturing capitalists. And this is
American republicanism? We need no longer wonder at the
cruel depression of the American farming interests.

The price of ten cents per pound for cotton leaves to the
planter a bare chance of a scanty profit. In this month of Jan-
uary, 1892, yeomen farmers have been selling their cotton in
the streets of Austin at a heart breaking price of five cents per
pound. Last year the remorseless McKtnley tariff went into
operation. My argument shows that we have here not only
the post-hoc but the propter-hoc. But meantime the prairie
farmer's wheat has advanced from' 80 cents per bushel to fl.05?
Yes. But is it possible that human effrontery and ignorance
could ascribe this beneficial result to the McKinley tariff? We
are told that this impossibility has actually been accomplished
successfully in the Northwest by protectionist demagogues.
"The force of nature can no farther go." It would be a curious
problem, whether the impudence of the deceivers or the stu-
pidity of the deceived is the more gigantic. My argument has
demonstrated that a restrictive system can only act adversely
against the price of any and every export staple.

The American tariff is operating adversely to-day against
the price of American wheat. This slight rise (which saves the
prairie farmers for a moment from despair) is purely the result
of a great and sudden dearth of breadstuff among nearly all the
280,000,000 of Europeans. Such a stimulus, but for the blight-
ing influence of our tariff, should have sent American wheat
up, not to the poor price of $1.05 per bushel, but to $1.60. Un-
der the twenty per cent, tariffs which prevailed from 1846 to
1861, smaller stimuli in European markets again and again
sent the price of American wheat up to $1.75 per bushel.

It will be easily perceived from the above analysis that I
have no quack nostrums to propose to the farmers as remedies
for their wrongs. The political measures which are due to
them and which would relieve the unjust pressure, are the hon-
est and simple ones of Did Southern statesmen.

Economical government, reduced taxation, the arrest and

340 THE DEPRESSION OF AMKEICAN FARMING INTJCBEsl^S.

repeal of all class legislation and a swift return to strictly reve-
nue tariffs. Will the great producing classes see their true
remedy and combine in their strength to exact of our rulers its
faithful application? I fear not. Impatience misleads many.
The eTil is chronic. Safe and wholesome remedies will only
operate slowly. The money oligarchy has its hired advocates
everywhere afield, who misdirect the views of the people. It
is to be feared the greatest obstacle to true reform lies here;
the real remedies are simple aind honest, but the political mind
of America is largely dishonest. The true theory of republican
government taught by the fathers of America was this: That
the sole function of civil government is to protect the equitaDle
rights of all, while it bestows class privileges on none, and
leaves each free citizen to worlpout his own preferred welfare
by his own honest exertions in his individual independence.
But the popular cDUception of government has oome to be that
it is a complicated and powerful machine, to be manipulated
for the advantage of whatever cliques can seize the control of
it, so as to juggle other people's earnings into their pocket's.
Consequently the prevalent picture in our political movements
is this: The oppressing clique struggles by every means, fair
and foul, to retain its hold of the crank of the lucrative ma^
chine. The oppressed clique does not seek the restoration of
justice to all. That is too simple and old fashioned. No; what
it seeks is to grasp in its turn the crank of the machine, in or-
der to make it so. revolve as to recoup its losses, avenge itself
upon its oppressors, and imitate their selflsh use of pDwer. The
danger is that amidst these species of struggles patriotism and
political morality will perish. Parties will become more venal
and a constantly narrowing oligarchy of wealth will take the
place of true republicanism.

If the great agricultural class does not possess the equity,
wisdom and firmness to enforce the righteous remedy, for no
other class will find its interests in doing it, we may consider
free government in America as doomed.

'•THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES."

(From the Houston Post, March, 1892.)

Such has been the very war-cry of the so-called "sSlver
men" in politics. They claim continually that the standard
silver dollar known as the "Bland dollar" is precisely the dol-
lar of our daddies and that therefore they demand it. Now
the meaning of this claim is, that the precedent of the Fed-
eral government, the example of its founders, and the weight
of their wisdom and patriotism, justify the continued and un-
limited coinage of this dollar, containing three hundred and
seventy-one grains of pure silver. I shall shew that this plea
fathers, in form and nanne, but not in reality and worth, that
is uncandid and false, that this coin is now the dollar of our
were tbose wise old patriots here now, instead of fathering it
they would most certainly reject it, from the iforce of the very
principles by which they shaped the money policy of the coun-
try. The phrase is only a catdh-word to juggle with, not an
argument to reason from. Some explanation is needed »to
evince this.

It is true that our fathers adopted the "double standard"
for the Federal coinage, and that, by the advice of an excellent
financier, Mr. Albert Gallatin. The "single standard" makes
both gold and silver money for the people and coins both for
their use, just as truly as the d'outole standard. The difference
between the two plans is just this : the single standard makes
silver coins "legal tender" for debts only to small amounts
(say up to ten dollars (|10), while for all larger debts gold coins
alone are legal tender. The plan of the "double standard"
makes the silver and gold coins both legal tender for debts of
any amount, however large, at the option of djebtors. That;
alone is the essential point of difference. The results which
are designed and which follow in fact from the two plans are

342 THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES.

these: The single standard gives the people both silver mouey
and gold money to buy and sell with, just as the people prefer
the one or the other, and indeed it provides the people as much
silver money as they find it convenient to uee in preference to
gold; but it does not enable debtors to eoanpel their creditors
by force of law to take silver coins (except in very small
amounts) as the forcible measure and standard of the values
which they got from their creditors and which debtors are
bound to return to them when pay day eomes. The law con-
fers that power only on gold coins : that is all. I repeat, the
law of the single standard allows the people to enjaj either
silver or gold coins as measures of value in trading with each
other, just as they choose to agree together at the time; but
the law refuses to empower debtors to force anything on their
creditors as the fixed standard of values, to be receivable when
pay day comes, except gold coins. Such and no mope is the
plan of the single standard in those great nations which have
adopted it, Russia, Germany and Great Britain ; and such was
the whole extent of the much abused law of 1873 adopting the
single standard for the United States. The designed and ac-
tual result of the douTale standard is that it enables all debtors
to compel their creditors, by force of law, to take either silver
or gold coins, as the standard of values received, at the debt-
or's option.

Every truly scientific writer and statesman recomonendis
the single standard, in all countries : and this for two teasons;
one is that the plan <fi double standard is always liable to be-
came dishonest and mischievous unless it be corrected by a
means very expensive and troublesome. The other is that this
plan always tends to make silver money, or gold money, or
both more scarce, and thus to deprive the people of the con-
venience of having plenty of both kinds in use. Whereas the
single standard tends to keep them both in circulation and
especially plenty of silver. So that the advocates of douMt
standard and free coinage are exactly wrong in telling the peo-
ple that their plan Vill keep more silver in circulation. This
may look strange at first, but the following facts make it plain.

These metals are mot only the materials: of coinage, buti
always articles of traffic in. commerce. No laws and no power
on earth can prevent this. As articles of traffic, they must

THE DOLLAB OF THE DADDIES. 343

fluctuate in relative value under the well known law of supply
and demand, just as iron, cotton, wheat, and tobacco fluctuate.
If the annual crcvp of silver remains the same, while the gen-
eral demand for it diminishes, its price must fall. If the de-
mand remains as before and the crop increases the price must
fall. If the annual crop increases faster than the demand the
price must fall, but if the relation of supply and demand in
the case of gold remains permanent while either of these
changes happens to silver it must become cheaper relatively
to gold. That is, if sixteen ounces of silver -sufficed before to
buy one ounce of gold in metal markets, it will now requite
more than sixteen ounces of silver. Or, a quantity of wheait
which w'ould before buy sixteen ounces of silver or one ounce
of gold indifferently will now buy more than sixteen ounces of
silver, and still only one ounee of gold.

If a governiment persists in the plan of the double stand-
ard after the silver in its dollar has thus come to 'be worth less
than a dollar it begins to practice a 'wrong, and to unsettle its
standard of values. As a rocking foundation is no real foun-
dation at all for a house, so an unsettled standard is no stand-
ard. Such a coinage instead of regulating traffic in a whole-
some manner tends to work confusion and disturbance in all
business transactions. For instance, two citizens in the exer-
cise of their rightful freedom have covenanted that the one
shall give to the other certain goods to be valued at one thou-
sand dollars and to be paid for by that number of these coins.
But what does "dollar" mean? Clearly the government when
undertaking to regulate that matter ought to give but one
answer. To give two different ones is confusion. Does "dol-
lar" mean twenty-three and one-flfth grains of pure gold? Or
does it mean three hundred and seventy-one grains of pure di-
ver? But these are now quite different values! One of the
mischiefs always attending this confusion is: That it starts
circulation in currency itself, besides inflaming speculation in
all other kinds 'of goods bought and sold with currency. This
is ever a curse and let it be noted that it is the small money
len(Ung class which always profits. In the end, it is the large
borrowing class which always loses, when currency itself is
speculated in. Especially is this true against the farmers. And
the reason is perfectly simple and certain. It is the money

344 THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES.

lending class which is always the most quickly informed of
the shifts and fluctuations hetween the two currencies because
it is their husiness to study them and they live just in the cen-
ters of action; while the farmers, scattered over the country
and husy in their fields, are the last to find out what is com>
ing. Moreover the money lending class is most ahle to pro-
duce changes and shifts in the currencies, which it is their
business to handle in large quantities. Hence we see, that the
politicians make two most absurd blunders when they tell the
farmers that it is to their interest to have abundant "siQift
money" or silver money of inferior value; and that the Wall
street men advocate a single standard and oppose free silver
coinage of standard dollars from selfish greed. The self in-
terest of the money lending class would lead them to desire
another period of unequal currencies, for they know that they
get rich fastest in such times, and the debtor class suffers most.
And it is precisely the farming class which in the outcome al-
ways suffers by "soft money." Does the aljundance of this
seem for a time to raise the price of farm products? It is a
miseraWe cheat; for when settling day comeS, as come it must,
the farmers always find that they have been paid for what they
have to sell with cheap money and now have to pay what they
owe in dear money. The farmers of the United States may be
sure that Mr. Cleveland is their truest and best friend here.
He is a learned, wise and honest man: let the farmers listen to
him if they wish to kno'w what is for their good.

This is proved hy our recent historj from 1862 to 1871t
when the country had two different currencies, paper and me-
tallic; then it was the famous gold room seethed every day like
a caldron. It was then the foundations were laid for those col-
lossal fortunes in the hands of a (few, which all men now see
to he so threatening to the rights and welfare of the people.
It was then the grand impulse was given to that fatal process
which, ever since, has heen making the rich richer and the poor
l>oorer. Let the experience of that time also teach the farmers
the other truth; that in a time of "soft money" it is they who
suffer, and it is the money lending class which gains. The
period I have marked was a time of soft money. When the
war between the States ended the Federal paper money quickly
became less depreciated, so that one and a half dollars of it

TBE DOLLAB OF THE DADDIES. 345

were equal to one gold or silver dollar; and the paper money
gradually appreciated. But it was soft money until the re-
sumption of specie payments. Now who was it that got rich
during that period? It was the bankers and commission mer-
chants whD lent advances to farmers, while the farmers got
poorer and poorer. Indeed the lending class almost ate up the
farming class bodily. That was the, epoch when Richardson, of
Jackson, Miss., from being a little commission merchant, be-
came the largest cotton planter in the world, through the
agency of his advances and crop mortgages. Let farmers learn
by experience.

The silver shouters tell the farmers that the unlimited
coinage of silver dollars of inferior value is the way to give
them abundance of silver money; which I expressly deny. It
is the very way to make money of both kinds scarcer. Again
I appeal to stubborn facts. Under the Bland law, the United
States has coined more than three hundred milliDUS of these
inferior silver dollars. Meantime Great Britain, in her wis-
dom, retains the single standard and limited cDinage of silver.
But this very year the people of the United States are employ-
ing only ,$i.QO per capita of silver money; while the people of
Great Britain are employing $2.85 per capital The rest of DU^r
silver coinage lies obstinately in the vaults of the treasury j
the peDple will not take it out and handle it, though the gov-
ernment coaxes and almost briibes them to do so. Do these
facts loDk strange? They are explained by a simple view of
human nature. The people know in spite of the demagogues
that these Bland dollars are inferior in commercial value, each
one is worth, in fact, less than 75 cents. Now let an article
which the people know to be inferior be offered for their usq
un two plans : Let the one plan be to offer it to their free op-
tion and say to them, "Here it is, it is an inferior article; y»u
can use it if you choDse wherever your convenience calls for
it, or you can let it alone." The other plan sajs to the people,
"This article, which you 'believe tD be inferior, you shall be
made to take as superior, even equal to the best, and if you
take it when pay day comes, the law will compel you to pay
back in the best and dearest." Every one who knows human
nature knows that the first plan will circulate far more of that
article than the second plan. Suppose it were an inferior grade

346 THT? DOLLAn OF THE DADDIES.

of butter, or flour, or cotton, cloth, or lard; let any grocer or
housekeeper answer. Leave them free to settle at an inferior
price for the inferior article according to their own judgment,
and convenience will prompt them to use a good dteal of it; but
when yDu make a law that the inferior shall be priced as high
as the best, everybody naturally resolves to have as little to do
with it as possible. It is the same with the people's money.

The other consequence of our double standard with an in-
ferior silver dollar as legal tender for all amounts is still more
certain: it will ultimately drive away all the gold coin. The
people have been hearing lately of "Gresham's law." This is a
principle in the science of currence so called (because that great
man explained and proved it so well 300 years ago. It is this :
Where the law makes two kinds of money to be currency oif
which one is worse than the other, the worse kind always tends
to drive the better kind out of circulation and out of the hands
of the people. So bug as the quantity of the worse currency
is quite limited the great inconvenience of having too little cur-
rency of either kind may check this natural tendency, keeping
some of the better currency in circulation, temporarily. But
the tendency is at work all the time, and when the quantity of
the worst money is increased enough tD fill the natural chan-
nels of trade all the good money goes away. This also is but
nature and common sense. Let any man ask himsel'f; suppose
he were going to buy a $10 coat with two kinds of money in
■iys pocket, one kind commercially worth 25 per cent, more
than the other, while the law empowered him to force the mer-
chant to take 10 of either kind as $10. He also knows that
there is a money broker whom he can reach, who will give him
twelve of the meaner dollars for ten of his better kind. What
will he be inclined to do? Of course, he will keep back the
better dollars and force the merchant to take the meaner Dues ;
he gains $2 by it. Such is exactly ("he position of all money
dealers in financial centers. They find that they can make a
Bland dollar, 'by virtue of bad law, buy a gold dollar's worth
inside the United States, while outside it will pay only 75
cents. Of course then, whenever they have money to pay in
EurDpe, India, China, or Australia, they are going to send gold
money to pay it, while, they keep the meaner silver money to
put off on their fellow citizens. The tendency is as inevitaltle

THB DOLLAB OF THB DADDIBS. 347

as any other law of nature. Let free coinage go on and sooner
or later the last American gold coin will go out of American
circulation.

Facts prove this. Between 1792 and 1834 silver had
cheapened a little in the commercial markets of the world. At
the later date a gold eagle ($10) sold for $10.65 in silver. This
was an appreciation of a little over six per cent.; the conse-
quence was that all the gold coinage of the United States went
entirely out oi circulation among the people. There was noth-
ing but silver, bank notes, and wretched shin plasters. One
might as well have looked for feathers from angels' wings in
the hands wf the people as for the gold coins of their own gov-
ernment. Congress saw the necessity of restoring commercial
equality of value between its silver dollars and its gold ones.
It effected this by the law of 1834, which reduced the quantity
of virgin metal in the gold eagle from 247 1-2 grains to 232
grains, or albout six per cent. Then their gold money began to
stay and circulate at ihome. Now if a difference of six per cent,
in value sent all our gold coin out of circulation, what will a
difference of 25 per cent, do? It must, for the stronger reason,
banish all our gold. Circumstances may delay the flow; they
cannot stop it finally. The tendency in this law of currency is
as infallible as the tendency of rivers to run down hill. A dam
across a stream may check the current until the pond is full:
then it continues to run down hill as before.

I have now reached the place to signalize the dishonesty
of the jockey "catch-word," the dollar of our daddies. This
claim should mean, were it not a contemptible fraud, that the
fathers of the government committed themselves for all time
to a dollar of 371 grains, irrespective of fluctuations in the rela-
tive price of silver. But this is precisely what they never did.
Their example to us was to make a silver dollar equal in com-
mercial value to their gold dollar and to make whatever
changes afterwards might be needed to keep them equal. Why
did they put just 371 grains of pure silver into their standard
dollar in 1792? See Hamilton, Jefferson and Gallatin. Be-
cause 15 ounces of silver would then buy 1 ounce of gold, at
which ratio the 371 grains of silver exactly equaled in value
the tenth part of 247 1-2 grains of gold allotted to the gold
dollar. In 1834, when silver had fallen so that it took 16

348 THE OOLLAB 0]f TH£ DADDIES.

ounces to buy an ounce of gold, the fathers recognized the need
and duty of making a change in the coinage to equalize the two
kinds. This they did by lightening the gold coin 6 per cent. If
the silver men now are not trying to cheat the people, by this
claim of the fathers' precedent, let them do what their fathers
did, equalize the two kinds of dollars. If those fathers wiere
here now they would effect this by putting one-fourth more
silver into the standard dollar. Not by taking one-fourth of
the gold out of the gold dollar. Because they would have sense
enough to know that such a sudden and wide leap downwards
in the value of both dollars would 'be ruin ; it would be a gii-
gantic theft upon the government and upon every creditor of
t?he government, or of individual Americans throughout the
world, and would make a financial convulsion which would
strew the country with bankruptcies. The other consequence
of a double standard, when the relative value of silver to gold
has changed, is a moral one. If the government does not read-
just its two kinds of dollars by recoinage, it becomes guilty of
wickedness. This is the wickedness of using itself, and enabling
the citizens to use, divers and false measures in ibuying and
selling. The function of money is to be the instrument of ex-
changes between commodities. In doing this the money be-
comes the temporary measure of value. When the government
makes two kinds of dollars, one more valuable by a fourth part
than the other, and by law empowers the buyer to force the
meaner sort of dollars on the seller, as equal to the better sort;
tfiis is precisely as though the law should authorize cloth mer-
chants to keep two yard-sticks, one 36 inches long, to buy with,
and one 27 inches long, to sell with, and force the people to call
them both full yards. In dry goods trade this would be simple
rascality: why is it not the same in currency? This is the
wickedness forbidden in Grod's law. Deut. 25: "Thou shalt not
have in thy 'bag divers weights, a great and a small. Thou
shalt not have in thine house divers measures, a great and a
small." Hence it is the imperious moral duty of every gov-
ernment which chooses the double standard to make and to
keep all its kinds of dollars of equal, and of uniform and sta-
ble value, to the l)est of its ability. If it does not try to do this,
it is a thief and an abettor of thieving in its citizens.

I have now described the two great evils which attend the

THE DOLLAR 01' THE DADDIES. 349

plan of the double standard when the relative value of the
metals has changed. The only honest remedy is the recoinage
of all the money which the government has made out of one
or the other metal. But this remedy is terribly expensive and
inconvenient. I will now explain this by supposing the remedy
applied to the present "Bland dollars." Let us say there are
now 300,000,000 of them. First, 104 grains of pure silver has
to be put into every one of these dollars to make them honest.
This would require about 64,000,000 ounces of silver; whieh
would cost at this time about |60,000,000 in gold. Who is to
pay for this? The government, of course. It has no money
except by taxing the people. That is, the hard pressed tax
payers must buy it. The meaning of which is that, were this
false coinage raised to 100 cents values now the people must
be gouged sixty millions to pay for the blunders which Con-
gress has perpetrated under the advice of these silver men..
But this is not all. All the silver coins in the use of the peo-
ple must be sent back to the mints, to be made over again and
made honest. This will be several months' work. In the mean-
time what are the people to do for silver change? What a
tremendous spasm in business we shall have here! At this
point some thoughtless person is going to say, "This spasm
can be avoided by calling back to the mints for recoinage only
small installments at one time of the silver money in the peo-
ple's hands." Nay, we are not out of the woods yet! The
small installments of the full-weight, new coins must ibe
thrown into circulation as fast as they are manufactured; etse
this plan does nothing. But take notice: the community now
has two kinds of silver money, a better and a worse; and'
Gres'ham's law immediately begins to work against the better
kind. The money brokers will take out of circulation the good
new dollars, nearly as fast as the mint throws them in; so the
agony will be prolonged. English history tells us how power-
fully this influence obstructed the new coinage at the end of
the seventeenth century, in spite of the honest administration
of William and Mary and the transcendant talents of the mint-
master, who was no other than Sir. I. Newton.

But if these things would be done in the green tree, what
would be done in the dry? Suppose that we had the free coin-
age of silver into Bland dollars, which many clamor for! Gold

350 THE DOLLAR OP THE DADDIES.

would be driven from us In all purc'hases and payments just
r.s fast as tlie mints could coin the silver; and when the volume
of the latter became large enough to relieve the check on gold
exports, operated by the stringency of a deficient currency, the
last of our gold would go. Who would ibe fool enough to pay
gold for any purchase or debt when law enabled him to gain
25 per cent, by paying in silver? Let us suppose a debtor ow-
ing $1,000, who has provided a thousand gold dollars, or goods
equal thereto, wherewith to pay; he has only to use this gold
instead of letting his creditors have it, to buy silver bullion
and to send it to a mint where the United States will make lit
into Bland dollars for him, without even charging him the
slight toll of a seignorage; and he wipes off his $1,000 debt .'ind
has $250 silver dollars left in his pocket; of course he will Jo
this. Of course, every other debtor will do the same. Nobody
will receive any gold for any purchase or debt. It will prac-
tically cease to be American money. Thoughtless people say,
let us have free coinage of silver in order to have maney
plenty. It is the very way to make money scarce, for it will
drive away all our gold, which will not only take out |650,000,-
000 of American gold now existing, but it will dry up all that
vaster volume of credits now doing money's work, founded on
that gold.

But the silver men claim that silver is not really depi-e-
ciated in the world's commercial market. They assert that tlie
enormous depression on its price is the wicked work of the
"gold bugs" in passing the law of the single standard in 1873,
and of Germany in adopting the single standard, thus forcing
France t3 do the same, They claim that if the United States
will adopt free coinage, and especially if she could persuade
the European nations to return to the double standard, the
event would show it, and silver would mount up again to the
good old price of 16 for 1. Sound financiers know that this is
all idle and false. Silver will never return to its former rela-
tive value in a century, because its decline has not been due
to any legislative acts in either Europe or America, but to an
enormous increase of production and partial diminution 3f de-
mand. In the first place, if the United States could persuade
the European nations to come back to the double standard
this would not increase the general demand for silver for cir-

rns Dollar or thk daddies. 351

eulation, but rather diminish it; for I have shown that the
countries of the single standard circulate much more silver
per capita than the United States, which has the double stand-
ard. In the next place, the United iStates never will persuade
the European nations to adopt our bad system of currency.
Their statesmen are not such fools. Their Parliaments are :iot
cursed with "silver lobbies," where private producers of the
silver crop have their hired agents to cause the government to
"bull" the price of their special crop at the expense of all other
■honest producers. Some of those Parliaments may have
"Houses of Peers"; but they are not infested with oligarchs
carrying mining camps in their pockets as their rotten bor-
oughs under the name and pretext of sovereign States. They
may send commissioners to Paris and Berlin, highly paid at the
people's expense, to ventilate their sophisms before the Euro-
pean financiers; it will result in nothing. Such commission-
ers have already been sent and they were heard with civil con-
tempt, as they deserved.*

When we learn the simple facts as to the amazing change
in the annual volume of the silver crop we see plainly enough
why it has become and will remain much cheaper. New and
very rich lodes of ore have been discovered like the famous
Comstock mine. Chemistry has improved the methods of ex-
tracting the metal. Old mines have been reopeited as railroads
and industrial enterprises are extended. Twenty years ago the
annual crop of the United States and territories was about
nineteen millions of ounces. It is now one hundred and sixfy-
one millions. What else can result from this enormous in-
crease in the crop than a marked decline in relative price? Last
year the American crop of cotton increased from about seven
and a quarter millions of bales to eight million and six hun-
dred thousand. This knocks the price down from ten to eight
cents per pound. Here the increase was less than one-sixth,
and it made the price fall one-ififth. But the increase in the
silver crop has been eight-fold, not seventeen per cent., but
eight hundred per cent! "Oh, but," exclaim the silver nien,
"the area of commerce and civilization is rapidly increasing;
and with it the demands for silver for currency and the arts."

*Thls prophecy is fulfilled by the failure of the recent Brussels conference.

352 THE DOLLAB OF THE DADDIES.

I reply, so the uses of cotton and the world's market for cot-
ton fabrics -are annually extending. Has the area of comrberce
been extended eight hundred per cent, in twenty years? This
at least would be necessary in order to absorb the eight-fold
silver crop, if the other elements of demand remain as before.
But they, have not. The demand for silver has relatively de-
clined in several respects. As to the arts: There are more
people now than twenty years ago who think they are rich
enough to use plate on their talDles instead of earthenware?
Yes, but the cheap process of electrotyping has been invented
and the people use a hundred times as much of these wares.
Again, the methods of traffic in India, China and Japan, with
their six hundred millions of industrial people, are changing,
so as to employ relatively less silver and more gold, and bank
credits. The Chinese and Japanese have long employed silver
as their chief money of commerce. But since the opening of
their ports a large part of the trade has passed into the hands
of Europeans, whose money of commerce is almost exclusively
gold and bank credits. When India was governed by its na-
tive princes, the uncertainty and rapacity of their exactions
under the name of taxes had formed an almost universal habil
among the people of annually hoarding, secreting and burying
their savings in the form of silver coins. But now the British
have governed India for a generation. They are conquerors;
but the Hindoos have had time to learn that if masters, they
are wise and systematic masters. Official abuses are sternly
punished. Assessments and taxes, if heavy, are regular. The
people have learned that there is no occasion to secrete or bury
their riches. The silver coins, which they are able to save,
need no longer be buried in the cow yard, but can be carried
to the savings bank, where they will earn some interest. Thus
they are returned at once into the circulation. The result of
this change has been the closing of a species of gulf into which
an annual stream of millions of European and Spanish-Ameri-
can silver used to flow, to reappear no more for a life time.
(Much, indeed, never reappeared, because the secret of the hid-
ing places died with the owners). This stream is now turned
back into circulation and speedily makes its presence felt in
the Western world by reason of the close commercial relations
between India and Europe and America.

THB DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES 353

For these and other reasons, it is evident that the old re-
lation of supply and demand in the silver market is perma-
nently changed. An ounce of gold will never again 'be bought
for less than twenty ounces of silver. The best proof of this
is that the fraudulent and unwise efforts of the Congress to
"bull" the silver market by its coinage laws of 1878 and 1890
have been ridiculous failures. All they effected was a small
spurt in the price of silver for a few weeks. It quickly dropped
to its fixed price of about a dollar per ounce (of 480 grains.)*
At this rate the standard dollar of 371 grains, is really worth
78 3-8 cents. It will never be worth more. All laws of CJon-
gress that it shall be, are as futile as a law that a pound of iron
shall be worth a pound of copper, or as the pope's bull against
the comet.

*The ounce of silver has since declined obstinately to 84 cents.

ECONOMIC EFFECTS OF THE FORMER LABOR

SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN UNITED

STATES.

1894.

The future must learn chiefly from the experience of the
past. There is no truth 'better esta'blished in science, than this:
That every fact and every law may have future value from,
some useful application, perhaps wholly unforeseen. The wise
scientific man, therefore, carefully stores up every authentic
discovery, like the experienced housholder; in the confidence
that it will be useful at a future day, though now apparently
useless. The circumstance that this fact formerly existed in
conditions not likely to be ever again exactly renewed, does by
no means show it valueless. It may prove a valuable guide
under new and unexpected conditions.

The labor-system o'f the South before A. D. 1860, is a thing
ot the past. Nearly a generation has lived since it was abolish-
ed. It is time that the political emotions which once associated
themselves with it were quieted. This seems a suitable season,
therefore, after the smoke of contest has evaporated, and yet,
before the data and the witnesses for the investigation have
perished, to ascertain its real economic effects.

This inquiry should 'be kept carefully separate from the
social and the moral questions touching that system of labor.
It is fully assumed, that wealth is not the only end, nor the
highest end, which a commonwealth or a nation should pursue.
The truth, that a given social system is the most lucrative does
not prove it unjust. The single point to be pursued in this in-
quiry is: What really were the economic results of the sys-
tem which has passed away? And this point is sought only
for the light it is capable of shedding on future economic prob-

FOKMKK LABOB STSTBil OF TUB SOUTHERN U. S. 355

lems, which may meet our posterity. Of course, science looks
only at premises and conclusions, considering only whether
the former are grounded in authentic facts; and the latter are
logically drawn. The inquirer has nothing to do with precon-
ceptions and inclinations, for or against the system examined.
The main premises of any valuable conclusions here, are the
facts. Theories and hypotheses are of no account, in the face
of the facts. The chief reliance must be upon the actual re-
sults, as revealed by the authorized statistics of labor and pro-
duction. And these will be found to demonstrate, when exam-
ined from the various points of view, a cumulative proof, that
the Southern labor-system was comparatively much the more
productive of wealth and accumulated capital.

It may be well to define clearly in the outset, what that
labor-system was, commonly known as domestic slavery of Af-
ricans. He who persists in viewing and treating it as virtually
the same with the system which bore the equivalent name in
pagan Greece and Rome, cannot possibly understand what the
Southern system really was. It may be true that "Aristotle"
(Politics) "can be quoted, defining a SmAci or slave as ;fpeua
tfifvxov "an animated utensil'; or that modem assailants
may declare the African in the South was made by law "a
mere thing," "a chattel." But every fair observer knows that
in the South, essential changes from that unjust and harsh sys-
tem were made by law, which, while for eonvenience sak«,
leaving the name of slave, made the relation to the master es-
sentially a different one. So far did the laws of the South go
from treating the African in bondage as a mere thing, owned
by the master absolutely; those laws treated the bondsman as
a responsible moral agent, personally amenable to statute
laws, and encouraged and warned by its sanctions: they pro-
tected his life, limbs. Sabbath and chastity, against violence
even from his own master : and that by the same statutes, and
the same penalties which protected these rights of white per-
sons: they gave to the bondman a legal title, as against his.
own master's estate, and even against his master's personal
earnings or professional salary, to a laboring man's subsist-
ence for life: they enabled him, if not legally held in constraint,
to sue his own master at the law, for his liberty. What then
remained to the master, of the prerogatives of a master? This

356 FOBMBB LABOR SYSTEit OF THE SODTJIKRN U. S.

only: Property in the involuntary labor of the African, for
life, subjecf to the bondsman's right of subsistence, and such
control of his person and services only as was necessary to
possess that title. The Constitution of the United States, the
supreme law of the land, and the work of the greatest jurists
and statesmen af America, has cut off all debate as to how;
much and how little was lawfully meant by the relation, in
giving us an exact definition, in words perfectly clear-cut and
appropriate. These Africans were described as, ''Persens held
to labor or service in any State" (meaning: so held by regular
law of that State).

So, Sir William Blackstone defined the bondage which ex-
isted in his day (notwithstanding Lord Mansfield's famous de-
cision in the Somerset case), by l^w in England and all her
colonies, as a title to another person's involuntary labor, which,
while a title for life, was no more in its nature, than that af tte
master to the labor of his indentured apprentice. So Dr. Paley,
in his moral apd political philosophy. We have nothing to do
then, with discussing the economic results of a pagan system
of slavery, never known for a moment in civilized America,
which dehumanized the rational human agent into a "thing
a mere "chattel." The system we have to examine was as a
labor system; the subjection of the 'labor, for life, of a certain
alien and savage population defined by the law, irrespective
of their optional, consent, to the heads of white, free families,
in a domestic government of the master; but under the limits
anfl restraints of civil law. What were the economic results
of this vigorous expedient, to which the Southern States re-
sorted in order to protect themselves from the evils of the
presence of this savage population? A presence which had
not been elected by those States, but forced on them, wh^le
colonies, against their choice, by the slave trading laws of
England and New England. Let the reader observe in pass-
ing that nothing more is needed than this correct definition of
the relation, to make an end of the boastful argument of thie
Abolitionist. He argues that the relation was always and es-
sentially wicked. The only premise which can furnish even a
pretence for this conclusion is the following: That any hu-
man being's property in the involvjntary labor of another hu
man must be always and essentially wicked. But when this

FORMER LABOR SrSTBM OF TJiE SOUTHERN U. S. 357

is dragged into the light, its falsehood at once appears both;
monstrous and ridiculous. The parental relation clothes the
parent with property in the involuntary labor of the child.
The business relation clothes the employer with property in
the involuntary labor of the apprentice. The marital relation
may clothe the wife with property in th» involuntary labor of
the husband. There is not a legitimate government on earth
that does not clothe the rulers with property in the involun-
tary labor of the citizens. What else is the right to tax, to
exact military service? Thus this heady argument, which has
incited to a frightful civil war, to the murder of a million of
men and to the final destruction of a free constitution, is found
to be nothing but the blind pressing of a false issue. The evil
thing which Abolitionism professed to attack had no existence
except in its own slanderous accusations.

Another caution must be observed, in a fair examination
of this question. The productiveness of a given system may
be partly determined by the features of the system itself; and
partly by the personal traits of the people managed under it;
as the efficiency of a given army in the field depends partly on
the system of arming and drill, and partly on the "personnel"
and morale of the race from which the ranks are filled. Now,
a lalbor-syatem, as such, should not be held responsible for the
initial state of barbarity, ignorance, laziness, ineptness, and
general unthrift, of the persons first delivered to it to be by it
employed.

The necessity of employing such instruments as the savage
Africans were, may have prejudiced the results of a better
labor-system in a comparison with some worse system, which
has the good fortune to employ civilized, efficient, trained la-
bor at the outset. And if the former, in spite of this disad-
vantage, yet produce large results, while it improved the la-
bor and morale of its sorry instruments: this would be, to the
thoughtful mind, the most splendid evidence of its efficiency as
a system.

A very slight acquaintance with the science of economics
teaches, that little can be learned by a general and cursory view
of societies and comparison of their aspects. Yet many have
argued that the Southern labor-system must be economicall5
h"^ l[>ecanse they found more of the surface appearances of

358 FORUXS LABOR SYSTEM Of THJS SOCTHBRX U. 8.

wealth, in the Europe and America of the nineteenth century,
as large cities, splendid mansions, lavish, expenditures, and
princely incomes, in hireling societies than in slaveholding;
more in England than in Jamaica; or more in New York than
in Virginia. But several facts must be remembered: of which
one is: That in modern times, the slave-holding societies, in
every case, had been made, in one way or another, industrially
tri'butary to the hireling. The West-Indian and South Ameri-
can settlements were colonies to Great Britain, France, Spain,
Portugal, Deinmark, or Holland; and their industries were by
law subjected to restrictive systems, designed to transfer a
large part of their earnings to the home traders. The South-
ern States, between the end of the revolutionary war and 1789,
the admitted leaders in Wealth and progress, no sooner entered
the Federal Union, than their industries also were made tribu-
tary, by bounty, navigation, tariff, and financial enactments of
Congress, to their hireling-labor partners. Thus, there has
been no example, not injuriously meddled with, by which it
could be shown how profitable the Southern system would be
when it had a fair chance? It can never be determined which
of two hives of bees is most productive in honey-making while
the bees of one hive are regularly empowered to rifle every re-
turning worker of the other hive, of a part of his sweets. Both
the tendencies of the hireling communities in America, and of
the Federal policy towards those States, were more favorable
than the Southern, sys-tem to gathering a larger portion of
their people into towns. But any populous-town, whatever the
goodness or badness of its labor-system, tends to stimulate
ornamental agriculture around its suburbs. One only of the
influences need be mentioned. Most Americans, when enriched
by traffic, vehemently desire the amusements and boast of an
ornamented, suburban farm, or villa. The products of these,
evoked by lavish outlay of labor and manure, never equal their
cost. Pro-bably every ton of hay from the model farm has cost
the price of a ton and a half to produce it; every boasted pound
of golden butter has cost two pounds. But now, while these
lavish toys of "merchant princes" spread a pleasing zone of
culture and apparent fertility around each pompous city, they
are in no sense productive industry: no more so than the lemons
which the lady-wives have ripened in their conservatories, at

FOEMER LABOR ST8TBM OF THE SOUTHERN U. 8. 359

the cost of a dollar for each lemon, worth half a dime. The
more any society has of these t9y-farms, the more is its ag-
gregate wealth wasted. . If the admiring tourist would go to
the more retired parts of the regions tributary to this city, he
would soon see, in the "nakedness of the land," or in the hard-
ships of its p9or, the proof of that proposition. But as it is,
the European observes,- landing at Boston, and journeying
thence to Marblehead, to S'ew Providence, to New Haven, to
New York, to Newark, to New Brunswick, to Elizabeth, to
Trenton, to Philadelphia, to Chester, to Wilmington (Dela-
ware), scarcely gets out of one artificial suburban or zone, un-
til he enters, another. He leaps to the conclusion, that these
hireling States are all in a state of splendid prosperity. Should
he then continue his journey past Baltimore, to Washingtan,
to Richmond, and the farther Southern States, the Atlantdo
border so expands itself in its geographical configuration, in-
stead of the crowded convexity of the region he has passed
over, and the cities are so few and small, that the bare spaces
of the unadorned continent appear ' largely. Each Southern
city has also its zone of fictitious wealth; but they are far apart:
the eye of the unfriendly tourist prefers to rest on the poorer
inter-spaces:, he convinces himself that these States are poor.
He has taken tout a, partial, and therefare a deceptive, view.

Nobody can be blind to the natural differences made by
the 'Creator, between favored and slighted districts, as to na-
tural soil and climate. Let the alluvial plain of Lombardy be
compared with the bleak sand and pine barrens of old Brand-
en'berg: Is there on earth a tougher, more hardy, diligent, sav-
ing, peasantry than that of Brandenberg, and is not their farm-
ing guided by the best science in Eurape? But all this can
only keep alive on that hungry soil, under that harsh climate,
a starveling appearance of tillage, which is pitiful beside the
smiling, abundance of the Po alluvium. Here are natural dis-
advantages, which no virtue of any labor-system can equalize
or compensate. Now, it has been said a thousand times: that
the old Atlantic slave States had a great advantage in the na-
tive fertility of their soils; but that these fat fields have been
skinned and impoverished by the toad system of la:bor. Both
parts of this statement have always been simply false. The
lands which, in Virginia and the Carolinas, showed poverty in

360 FOBUEB LABOR 8YSTBU OF TUB BOUIHBBN U. S.

1860, had always been poor. They had never been made poor,
but were born poor. The uplands of the old Atlantic water-
shed, which are the vastly larger part of that area, are natural-
ly thin and Tiarren at their Northern, and their Southern ends.
They were p9or in New England. The part embraced in the
old Middle States, from the Hudson to the Potomac, were na-
turally the best. In Virginia they began to deteriorate, and
the natural average became worse and 'Worse, as they ap-
proached the Gulf. Florida being the poorest of all. In the
one great Illinois bDttom opposite St. Louis and Southern Mis-
souri, there is more fertile mould than nature ever gave to all
Eastern Virginia, or either Carolina. When the really rich
virgin soils of the great Mississippi valley were opened to cul-
tivation, the new States had an advantage for production and
the accumulation of capital, which statistics can hardly ex-
press. How ought that industry, which yields fifty or sixty
bushels of maize per acre, without manure, to outrun that
which, with the same labor of cultivation, yields, without ma-
nure, ten bushels? Such was and is the virgin strength of the
larger part of the upland area of the old Southern States. So
far as any criterion could be found, of the relative advantage
of the Southern System, from observing the face of the coun-
try, the simple facts were, in 1860, these: The African labor
was holding its place as the preferable labor, in every district
of every Southern State where it had ever had foothold, be-
sides extensive and profitable emigration to new regions. It'
was steadily making its way into those fertile parts of the
Southern States once tilled by white, hireling labor; because
found practically more profitable. The whole area of the old
South was in a rapid and splendid state of reparation and im-
provement: even the thin land described, which never had any
fertility to lose, coming rapidly up to profitable tillage. And
the few bands and isjets of really strong land presented, in
1860, the most magnificent tillage and the largest crops seen in
any of the old States.

Let it be distinctly understood, that these general views
are not advanced as the conclusive pr9ofs of the good results
of the system. That proof will be given below, in the authen-
tic testimony of the government, itself, and in solid facts of-
ficially attested. The objects of the above views are simply

FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOtTTHERN U. B. 361

preliminary : to clear away from the reader's mind presumptive
impressions against the truth: t9 rebut by more accurate and
impartial views, the prejudices excited against the witness we
are about to introduce, through false first impressions. One of
these impressions, much relied on, is the appearance of exten-
sive exhausted fields in the South. It has been unhesitatingly
claimed that slavery was the cause; that an exhausting cultiva-
tion is the proof of its bad economic effect. The 9ne answer
has been already given: that many of these lands could not
justly be said to be exhausted by any cause, inasmuch, they
were naturally so poor as to have almost no fertility to l9se.
But there were districts in the South which, 'before the splen-
did recuperation 9f 1845-1860, effectuated under slave labor,
had been in an exhausted condition.

Now if the same result be found in several other districts
where slavery never existed, the argument is ruined. The same
result has, in fact, been found in every district of America,
where these two circumstances concurred; the possession of a
profitable staple "Saleabte- in laige quantities, and sufflciemt
proximity to market. In any country, and under every system
9f labor, if new land is cheaply accessible, this result follows
(see John Stewart Mill. Political Economy. JBook I, chapter
12). The profitable staple tempts the first generation of land-
owners to exhausting cultivation. They suppose that it is more
gainful to exhaust the land, and take up other fields new and
cheap, than to manure the 9ld. This cause has regularly pro-
duced exhaustion in the hireling States, as in the South. Thus
ninety years ago. New England farmers went to the calcar-
eous lands of Vermont to raise wheat. They pressed their
gainful staple, but exhausted their soil. To-day those old
wheat farms are sheep pastures, and the shepherds scarcely
raise their own flour. Fifty years ago the second generati9n
of these Vermont wheat growers emigrated from their exhaust-
ed farms to the Genesee country of West New York to raise
wheat. They reaped forty bushels per acre, from the virgin
soil; but they pressed the skinning process, until the average
pr9duct fell below twelve bushels per acre. Then the nest'
generation went to Ohio, and skinned the apparently exhaust-
less lands of that State, the boast of this school of economists:
until the remorseless truthfulness of census-returns showed,

362 FoliMEB LABUB SYSi'iiH OF TUB SO0TH£BN U. S.

that Ohio was yielding an average of only eight and a half
bushels. Aid nDw the fourth generation are skinning the fat
prairies of Iowa and Nebraska. Another argument has been
claimed from the recuperation of production within the last
twenty years, in the subjugated States. The exclamation is:
Behold here, what the South gains 'by getting rid of her bad
economic system of labor. Some SDUtherners even, have been
shallow enough to echo it; because, poor fellows, they had
been so accustomed, for the first fifteen years of their subjuga-
tion, to desperate poverty and hopelessly unremunerated ef-
fort, that any degree of increase iDoks splendid in their eyes :
blinded to the past by the tears of despair. The latter, partial
return of progress in production is, indeed, a magnificent tes-
timony to the temper and. pluck of the ex-slaveholders: in that
under a system sd adverse as the present they could ever restore
any progress at all. But we meet with a flat denial, the as-
sertion that industrial progress, and the growth of new capital
now presents any such comparative ratio to that of the old sys-
tem, as to prove the supposed point. Between 1840 and 1860,
Virginia, an old State pursuing mainly other staples than
wheat, increased her wheat crop from ten to thirteen million
bushels, and her tobacco from fifty-six to one hundred and
twenty-four millions of pounds ! This progress was under her
old system of labor. Her wheat and tDbacco crops up to 1880,
under the new system, were I'estored only to: wheat, 7,826,174
bushels, and tobacco, 79,988,868 pounds. Only one other fact
is necessary. Between 1850 and 1860 the cotton crop, pecu-
liarly and exclusively the product of the Southern system, grew
frDm two and a half million bales, to five and a half millions:
an increase of 110 per cent, in ten years. Let it nDW be remem-
bered that in 1860 the cotton raising States had but seven and
a half millions of people. Now they have about seventeen mil-
lions.

But since 1860, tnirty years ago, this larger population,
under hireling labor, has only raised the crop of 1894 tD ten
million bales. A phenomenal crop? Here is progress : progress
gratifying to a conquered and despDiled people: but it is a
sorry showing as compared with that of the dM system. Leav-
ing out the years of the war, a similar ratio of progress would
have given us in 1894 flfty-two millions of bales instead of the

FORMBB LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOHTHERN U. 8. 363

actual ten million. This calculation, of course, discounts the re-
pressive power of an overstocked market. No economist claims
for the statistics of a census, entire accuracy. But it is pre-
sumable that omissions and inaccuracies virtually balance
each other, when a comparative! view is carefully deduced be-
tween two sections. If, for instance, our appraisement of the
cash value of a given product which is reported in bushels or
tons, should be somewhat too low, or too high, no comparative
error results, because that praduct in both sections has been
appraised at the' same price: so that the one section gains or
loses by any possible error of price, precisely in proportion to
the other. But in all' important particulars, the advantage in
the following estimates has been intentionally given to the hire-
ling States. The two following instances will explain this. The
wheat crops are given in bushels. It is well known to mer-
chants, that the average price of a bushel of Southern wheat
was considerably more, in any year, than of the Northwestern
wheat, which furnishes always the main bulk of that crop in
the hireling States: because it comes into an earlier market,
because it is more flinty and mature, and thus makes a flour
worth often half as much again for export, and because the
Southern crop includes no spring wheat; always inferior to
the winter wheat. Yet, in estimating the value of wheat, both
in 1850 and 1860, the same price was allowed for all Northern,
as for Southern wheat. Thus the advantage of many millions
of dollars was allowed to the hireling system. The other in-
stance is our unquestioninig acceptance of the census-estimates
of personal property at the North.

The nature of Northern pursuits has unquestionably pro-
duced a vastly larger development of that class of so-called val-
ues, known as credits, or securities, at the North, than at the
South. These credits are named as personal property : are sub-
ject to taxation and are always counted by men in estimating
their wealth. They are, of course, listed as personal property
by the census, and by the tax assessor, except that enormouis
fortune concealed by fraud.

But many of them are not values. 'When the capital stock
of a railroad, which actually expended ten millions in its plant,
is swelled by "watering" to twenty millions, however these fic-
titious shares may sell, or may pay dividends, they represent

364 FOKMEB LABOK SYaTEil OF THE 80UTHBBN V. 8.

no real values: they are only an artifice for levying a gratuitDUS
lien, and exacting a roibber tax on all the real industry which
seelvs transportation on the road. When an owner of real es-
tate sells land on credit and takes the purchaser's bond no
value is created by that transaction. Was the land worth ten
thousand dDllars? There is now the land, taxable in the pur-
chaser's hands at ten thousand dollars of value: and there is
the bond, taxable in the vendor's hands, as another ten thou-
sand. Each man counts the amount. The tax-assessor counts
it twice; but not a dollar of value exists, as yet, beyond the
ten thousand. ThDse who argue the reality of the fictitiouis,
credit value, ask: Is this bond worth nothing to the holder?
■Cannot it be sold at par, if secured by mortgage on the land?
Sued for? Bequeathed? Surely it is a real value! But the
stubborn answer is; Whence has any real value been created?
The land, the only original value, is now in the purchaser's
hand: and clearly value can not be created by exchanging a
piece of paper. The explanatiDn which these economists over-
look is very simple. There are rights, which may grow into
values only. But rights may be sold, bequeathed, held by law.
When a great commercial cras'h comes, like that of 1873, this
species of wealth vanishes by hundreds of millions. How is
this? There is no way in which actual values have heen used
or consumed, n3 fire, flood, shipwreck, war exportation, de-
vouring of anything. Literally no process of consumption of
values known to political economy has taken place; but sud-
denly thousands of peDple are poorer by millions. The ex-
planation is, that the credits destroyed by the "panic" never had
been actual, but only potential values. They never actually
existed as values: no value has been actually destroyed. The
only diminution of real values or wealth which the panic has
caused is the depreciation of prices of such pDSsessions as are
real commodities.

Now, in the appraisement of values, it is notorious that
the lists of the hireling States contained many more hundreds
of millions of credits than those ot the Southern States. These
States were mainly agricultural; their trading towns were
relatively few and sinall;and the species of "business" so-called,
and speculations, by which these credits are nominally inflated,
were comparatively unknown among them up to 1860. But

fOEMKfe LAbOB StSTKM OF THE SOCTHBBN tT. 6. E65

we hare made no deduction against the hireling States on this
ground: a large advantage has been allowed them in the com
parison. Before 1850, the census returns had scarcely been
taken on so comprehensive, or digested on so scientific a scale,
as to make their testimony decisive. After 1860 the Southern
system no more had any existence during a census year. Hence
our comparisons are justly limited to the years 1850 and 1860:
and these are enough. The testimony of the government it-
self, then is as follows.

In 1850 the total appraised values of the Southern States
were |2,900,604,589 to 9,348,924 total population; subtracting
3,204,313 slaves: 6,143,924 whites. If this aggregate were di-
vided among the whites per capita, it would give possessions
averaging f472 per head to the whites. Or if it be insisted that
the negroes shall be counted among the population, we had
$310 per head for white and black. Or, else : if we yield to (un-
fair) assertion that, in this comparison, the property in the la-
bor of slaves shall not count for anything : we then deduct the
whole, appraising all, men, women, children, and decrepit at
|250 per head, which is a high estimate for 1850; and we have
left a property of |355 per soul for each Southerner. In 1850
the hireling States had thirteen and a half millions of souls,
and the appraised possessions of all kinds were 13,621,011,661.
Each soul then had an average of $270. This gives the super-
ior riches to the South, by $85 per head, if we strip the South-
erners of all property in the labor of the Africans; although
hundreds of millions of dollars of actually realized and paid
up capital had been paid by them for that species of property.
If the Africans are counted as property, then the average South-
erner was richer by $202. In 1860 the South had twelve mil-
lions of people, including not quite four millions of Africans.
Her appraised values were $6,746,343,761, an increase of more
thaTi double in ten years. The hireling States with eighteen
and four-fifths millions of souls, presented a total of $9,257,964,-
000. The North had received from foreign emigrations an an-
lual accession of several hundred thousand people more than
he South, estimated to have brought them, besides their per-
sons and labor, an average of $1,000 each in cash. Still the
relative major wealth was with the South; each white soul
having $831, as against $490 to each soul in the North. Or,

366 FORMEE LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHEETT tJ. S.

If the unfair deductions be insisted on, of all property in the
labor of the Africans, each Southerner still had f 637, as against
the Northern average of $490 per head. And the deduction is
here made at the liberal rate of f400 for each soul of the Afri-
cans, their market value having risen in ten years. Or, if thfe
division of the Southern total be" made between the whole pop-
ulation, including all the Africans, there was still an average
of 1560 per head, against $490 at the North.

Or, let another view be inspected. In 1860 the hireling
Spates reared of the qereals used by Americans as human food,
five hundred and sixty-one millions of bushels, and the South-
ern States four hundred and ninety-four millions. That is, the
hireling system gave each, of its souls about thirty bushels; but
the Southern system gave each of its souls forty-one bushels.
Moreover, the hireling. States boasted in these cereals as their
groat export crops. But the South, after feeding every one of
her souls one-fourth more liberally than the hireling States,
must have had proportional surplus for. export, besides her
magnificent totals of cotton and tobacco! Again, of the do-
mestic animals used by Americans as human food (horned cat-
tle, sheep and swine) the hireling States had in 1860 about forty
millions, or a little more than two per soul for each inhabitant:
While the South had forty ,and a half millions, or aflbout three
and a half for each inhabitant. But, as the flesh of swine is
so predominant in the food of laboring Americans, it will be
interesting to see the proportions here. The hireling States
ha9 not quite twelve millions of swine; while the South had
twenty millions six hundred thousand. The hireling system
gave each mouth a little more than six-tenths of one swine per
annum; while the Southern system gave each mouth 'one whole
swine and seven-tentha of a second. But this does not tell the
whole story. A part of the hireling States were very large ex-
porters of pork. Sundry of the Southern States were, on the
contrary, large importers : and none of them sent away any ap-
preciable export of it. So that the laboring people of the hire-
ling States must have been deprived by export of quite a large
portion of their scanty six-tenths of swine per mouth; and the
Southern laborer must have eaten that portion, and all his one
and seven-tenths 'besides. Yet the cry was : The African was
wronged by being scantily fed! Again, in 1860, the South, with

FOEMKR LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SO0THBKN V. S 367

a little more than twelve millions of people, had 3,891,795
horses, asses and mules. The hireling States, with not quite
nineteen millions of people, had 4,335,246. Once more : the an-
nual earnings of the hireling States, including all the branches
of agriculture, mining and manufactures, and the whole value
of live stock were $98.67 per head for the whole population in
1850. The same year, the same industries in the South yielded
as increase f 108.25 for every soul, including the Africans. In
1860, the earnings of the hireling States amounted to only
$101.44 for each soul; but in the South, to $111,35 for every
soul, including the Africans. When we multiply this difference
of about 10 per cent, in 1850 and of 16 per cent, in 1860 hy the
twelve millions of the Southern people, it makes a huge dif-
ference in the proportional profits, in favor of the Southern
system. The returns of 1860 also disclose another fact: that
successful manufacturing industries were at that time, hy no
means confined to the hireling States. It is true, that the
South was prevalently agricultural: not because its civiliza-
tion, or its lahor system was ruder, ibut because its tastes and
interests drew it hy an enl%htened influence, in that direction.
That fts agricultural preference was enlightened is demon-
strated by the grand fact, testified by the government itself;
that its profits were larger than those of the other States work-
ing on a system more largely manufacturing.

The South knew what it was about. Yet, there was a very
large development of successful manufacturing industry, pf
which the rest of the world was strongly unobservant. Some
times, the instances of this were amusing. In 1864 a "raid" of
a cavalry detachment into Virginia resulted in the sack of two
or three iron-smelting estahlishments in her upper counties. A
metropolitan journal in New York thereupon congratulated
Mr. Lincoln at this vital reduction of the iron resources of the
Confederate government at Richmond, informing the world
that Virginia in 1860 had had six furnaces in operation: of
whdse resources one-third was now extinguished. In fact, the
one county of Rockbridge in 1860 had more than 12, and the
adjoining county of Allegany as many! In 1862, General T.
J. Jackson learned that the Confederate war department was
debating the policy of so contracting its lines of defense in up-
per Virginia, as to leave out the lower Shenandoah "Valley,"

368 FORMER LABOR 8TSTKM OF THE SOtJTHERN V. 8.

He requested the Congressman, representing the district iu
Kichmond, to protest. This gentleman said to the administra-
tion: "Consider what, in such a contraction, you abandon.
For instance, among other resources, you abandon, in my con-
gressional district alone, fourteen woolen factories, which pro-
duce clothing and blankets for your army." But the general
returns of the Federal government itself are more valuable.
They say that in 1860, the South produced by manufacturing,
values, after deducting the cost of raw materials, to the
amount of about one hundred and eighteen millions. The hire-
ling States produced in the same way, something more than
five hundred and thirty-six millions. The latter had $28.21 of
this sort of values, the South f9.64, more than one-third as
much.

Probably, if the question had been asked in 1860, or last
week, of the "well informed" Northern man or Ehiropean: "In
what ratio do you suppose the manufacturing industry of the
great North exceeded that of the South?" his guess would have
been : "In the ratio of fifty to one." The iboast sounds of that
largeness.

The bearing of these attested facts on our argument is not
seen until we consider how the legitimated accumulations of
Southern industry were systematically transferred to the North,
after they were earned, by the legislative system of the Federal
government. This levying of commercial tribute on our indus-
try began almost as soon as the government. Washington's first
administration had not ended, before Congress had assumed a
power, of which the makers of the Constitution were not dream-
ing : to incorporate in the territory of State, a mammoth ibank
of circulation and discount, which it made its exclusive fiscal
agent. Thus, at one unforeseen touch, the advantage of dis-
bursements and credits founded on the privilege of handling
the assets of the treasury taken by taxation from all the people,
was taken from the South, the payer of the larger taxes, and
given to the North. Then under the pretext of fostering a sea-
faring class for the advantage of the Federal navy, a fiishing'
bounty was established: the whole of which from the foreseen
force of circumstances, went to the North. For many years
before 1860 this bounty had taken out of the people's taxes a
million and a half annually. Half of this was a simple transfer

f orMee labor system of thb southern, u. s. 369

of the Southern earnings into Northern pockets. The next bur-
den was the enactment of a navigation law: precluding all
foreign shipping from the coast-carrying trade. It did not suit
the tastes and interests of the Southern people to go largely
into shipbuilding: as was foreseen and intended, the lion's share
of the gains of this monopoly went out of Southern pockets into
Northern. The great bulk of the commodities to be transported
were, up to 1860, of Southern production: the beneficiaries of
the monopoly of transportation were Northern.

If one is curious to know the scale on which Southern pro-
duction has been taxed by this monopoly, for nearly a hundred
years, he has only to look into the commercial news of the
port of Galveston. He there sees, every day, freights on South-
ern commodities to Europe from which the navigation laws do
not exclude this competition taken by the European ships for
just half the price charged by Northern ships coastwise, where
they are armed with this monopoly — that is to say: On every
product of her industry, wtiich the South desires to send by
water to another American market, she has paid (chiefly ito
Northern ships) two freight charges where one was due.

The next method of depleting our industry was by the more
liberal dispensation of pensions, and moneys for light-houses,
custom-houses, and other Federal buildings, in the North. It
mattered little whether the rolls of Washington's army in the
field showed an equal number of Virginians and Carolinian
men: at the pension ofBoe the Northern revolutionary veterans
always had a grand majority. The edifices built with taxe's,
from which the vicinage always manages so pretty a profit,
were plentifully sprinkled Northward: sparce and humble
Southward.

But the gigantic method of transfer of Southern earnings
into Northern pockets is, of course, the protective system, dat-
ting, in its onerous degrees, from about 1820. Every economist
admits the inevitable etfect of protective tariffs, to transfer
from the consumer to the manufacturer^ a second profit, in ad-
dition to the one fairly attached to the production, at least
equal to the tariff on the commodity. This needs no argument.
If the protected producer does not actually realize this plunder
from his fellow-citizens, it is only because this consumer is
wronged in this other form, viz: by being forced to buy what

370 JTORMEK J.ABOB SYSTEM OJF THB SOUTUEKN iJ. 9

he needs from a man not qualified to produce it as cheaply as
it might h4ve been produced elsewhere. One of the confident
arguments of protectionists is: That the system benefits not
only the protected manufacturer, but all the neighboring in-
dustries around him, by diffusing capital and opening markets
for their products. If this is so, then the North has gained, in
the race of comparative acquisition, gained without earning it
even more than the vast aggregate of additional profits paid on
protected manufactures, consumed in the South. Or, if an at-
tempt be made to estimate the amount of our losses from an-
other point of view, when we ask: Why does the American
producer demand protection? His answer is: because without
it he can make no profit in the face of European competitors.
If this is just, then it follows, that whatever gains these pro-
tected producers now have, were taken without value received
from consumers! From Southern consumers in that propor-
tion in which they bought their products. Thus, the riches
transferred out of Southern earnings into Northern hands, be-
tween 1820 and 1860, are seen to be almost ibeyond computa-
tion. But even this did not measure fairly the losses unjustly
imposed on Southern Industry by the protective system. Like
a hasty and reckless forager in an enemy's country, it destroyed
far more than the plunder it carried away. It happened that
the South had, up to 1860, two staples especially of vital im-
portance to her, tobacco and cotton, of which vastly the larger
purlf must be sold abroad, or have no purchasers because the
volmne of their production was manifold what the United
States needed, or could buy. For instance, in 1860 the single
county of Halifax, Va., and ■Casewill, N. C, were producing
enough leaf tobacco to supply the consumption of the whole
manufacturing population of the United States. Even of the
5,500,000 bales of cotton made that year, the United States were
able to use only 910,090 bales: less than one-sixth. Now, if a
(See comp. of C. p. 180,) the South was to get a living price for
the rest of these grand staples, foreign nations must buy them.
If foreign nations bought, they must pay in merchandizes use-
ful in the Southern States, for international exchange must be
barter.

For instance: England said to the South, in substance:'
"We desire your cotton; if we pay for it in our excellent woolens

Former labor system of tub southern u. s. 371

and iron-niongery, which we offer cheap, and you need, we will
buy all your cotton at a good price." But the tariff steps in
and says: "No; England shall not pay in woolens and iron";
except under such disadvantages as must vastly reduce the
quantity exchanged and the advantage of the exchange. Then
England must say, however reluctantly: "Therefore we can
take much less cotton, or at a much lower price." Thus the
South lost twice; once in this cruel reduction of the selling price
of her own products; and again in the tribute paid, without
value received, to the North.

Evidently, the Southern system might have been far more
productive of values than the rival system, and yet, under this
relentless drain, her aggregate of values might hA've been far
smaller. That she could spare this enormous drain, receiving no
countervailing commercial advantage, and still outrun her gi-
gantic rival, at successive degenniums, is an evidence of the
economic vigor of her system and her people, inexpressibly
splendid.

With this overwhelming and reiterated testimony of the
goveri^ment itself, and of the facts, to the superior profits of
the Southern system, the debate might end. But if it stopped
with fi sweeping victory here, the more instructive part of this
history of the past would be missed. We propose to show by
what principles of true econoinic science this result was at-
tained: so contrary to the prognostics of the more favored as-
sertors of the science itself.

It is this part of the discussion, which will furnish the val-
uable corrections and additions to our science, for the untried
future. The leading writers of France, Great Britain and New
England, including the latest and perhaps ablest (Frederic Bas-
tial), have usually followed Adam Smith, in demonstrating the
unprofitableness of slave labor, from premises given chiefly by
fancy and slander. It should have given them^ pause at least
in their application of their passionate declarations, to our
Southern system, to remember that most of them had never
been in three thousand miles of our country : and that none of
thorn had any per^nal knowledge of the real character of the
Kuuthern people, or of the Africans.

The stock arguments are such as these: "That our system
made the masters laxy : That the slave will slight his work as

372 FOEMEE LAB(»E SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN D. S.

much as he dares, having no incentive to diligence but fear;
while the fi'ee peasant proprietor, incited by self-interest, will
work to the best advantage: That the methods of labor will
be wasteful: That the proprietors, not having expended their
own labor for the products, will administer them wastefully:
That travelers testify: one intelligent free latoorer did the work
of two slaves," etc.

Mr. Mills, in his discussion of communism, for which his in-
tense political radicalism gave him quite a fellow feeling, has
powerfully refuted his own passionate arguments against the
bad economy of slave labor. 'So better defense of its good eco-
nomic effects need be desired, than the passages in book 2 ch. 1.
where, after perforce admitting that the labor of communists
must be compulsory, he yet argues that it would be the most
efiBcient of all.

What application these arguments may have had to the
serfs of Russia and Hungary, to the slaves of Brazil and the
British West Indies, we do not pretend to know. But we do
know that they lack application, in a single point, to our South-
ern system. When African servants were poor savages, inept,
alien, knowing no words of English, and moreover stiffened and
enfeebled by the horrors of the "middle passage," very possibly
they did only half a freeman's work. It is not unusual that a
maxim which had a basis of truth at the beginning, may be
repeated by inaccurate observers, long after that basis is re-
moved. Certain it is that in the 19th century, after civiliza-
tion, discipline, good feeding, intelligent tuition, and constant
domestic intercourse with the most spirited and cultivated of
the white races, the Africans had wholly changed.

In 1860, as they were the best fed and clothed, so they
were the most, athletic, the most skilled, the most effective and
the most cheerful agricultural laborers in the world. Nothing
is said here of the multitudes of skilled artisans among them,
as smiths, masons, plasterers, carpenters, machinis:ts, horse-
fanciers, sugar-refiners, stone-cutters, quarrymen. The indus-
try of our system was prominently agricultural; we speak main-
ly of the agricultural labor. We do not ask the reader to ac-
cept this testimony upon the word of the writer, who after be-
ing reared among these African laborers, had opportunity per-
sonally to compare their efficiency with that of free laborers. in

JFOEMER LABOR STSTEM OF TUB SOUTHERN U. 8. 373

Great Britain, Germany and the North. But it is fortified by
a number of solid facts, which no one acquainted with the South
will hazard his credit by disputing.

In 18G0, the census itself told us, what Northern statesmen
had to admit: that the lands immediately South of the divid-
ing- line, in Maryland, Virginia, Kentucky, were rated at least
one-flfth higher than lands of the same soil and climate in Penn-
sylvania and Ohio, immediately North of the line, tilled by free,
or hireling labor.

The great "Valley of Virginia" was settled by the Scotch-
Irish peasantry. But, while at first a free labor district, with
almost no Africans, its inclusion under the Virginia State gov-
ernment of course opened it to the Southern system. The white,
hireling labDr was, and is, the best, the most moral, and the
most eflBcient free labor in America. But from 1840 to 1860 the
African labor was introduced steadily and progressively, in
preference to it. This was usually done by the most progres-
sive, skilled and successful land-owners; and almost invariably
the neighb3rhoodis of highest agriculture were those in which
this change had gone fartliest. The original sentiment of the
"Valley" people had been more favorable to free, or hireling
labor.

Although the major part of the immigration into America
went northward, the South received quite an appreciable share
of it. Some German, more New England, and still more Irish
laborers entered the South, and attempted every other imag-
inable line of industry. But it was a notable fact, that theyj
never anywhere entered into competition with the Africans for
farm labor. But the demand for more farm labor was contin-
ually increasing, with the growing prosperity and capital of the
country.

The immigrants saw that they simply could not keep pace
with the bondsmen. Between 1850 and 1860 there was a gigan-
tic extension, in the South, of railroads and other internal im-
provements. Multitudes of experienced Northern contractors
sought the country, to share in the profits of these works. They
usually brought white hireling labor with them. But the South-
ern contractors on neighboring sections uniformly executed
their contracts with African labor, more quietly, more thor-
oughly, and more economically. Nort:hern engineers superin-

374 FORMER LABOR STSTEM OE THE SODTHBBN U. S.

tending the works soon saw and acknowledged the fact. North-
em contractbrs either replaced their white hireling labor by
Africans, or they transferred their contracts to Southern con-
tractors and retired. Such was the regular tendency, not uni-
formly carried out, because so many grand works were in
progress, that all the available Africans found employment, and
many whites besides. But it came to be the current and well
known answer among successful railroad men to the question,
"Can he make a profit on that contract?" "Yes, provided he
gets black labor."

The sudden and violent emancipation undoubtedly depre-
ciated the black labor ,and that seriously. Every land holder
felt it. Not a few former slave holders, still in bondage to the
dogmatism of hireling labor assertion, when they were robbed
of their black labor, comforted themselves (or affected to com-
fort themselves) with the profession: "Oh, well; they may be
more profitable as hirelings than as bondsmen." One or two
years farming inyariably undeceived them. The terrible losses
incurred by the deterioration of freedmen's labor then begat an
intense desire to substitute for it some other hireling latoor.
Multitudes of experiments were made. Landholders reach out
every whither for other labor. They imported Swedes, Dutch-
men, Norwegians, French, and, of course, Irish. They even
borrowed from California some of her Chinese. But the in-
variable conclusion was, that while the freedmen's labor was
impaired, all these were yet worse. The African, much deter-
ioftited from his efficiency, still remained the best labor, and
to-day all over the former slave-holding districts, if hireling la-
bor is used at all it is mainly that of blacks. The African has
again occupied the labor market so far as any labor market re-
mains on the farms, and the landlords who do not get on with-
out labor, have to adjust their outlay, and. their hopes of profit
to the stingier scale of this impaired labor: it is better than
any other accessible.

In order to infuse a particle of argument into the remark
that a slave who has no higher motive than fear of the lash,
will slight his work more than the peasant proprietor; it must
be shown that the modern hireling system has a 'tendency to
increase the number of intelligent peasant proprietors tilling
their own acres with their own hands, and that the Southern

FOEMEE LABOE STSTEM OF THE SOUTHEEN U. 8. 375

system tended to extinguish them. The facts are notoriously
the opposite. The material civilization of hireling nations de-
mands constantly, tlie consolidation of smaller lioldings into
larger, the oomibination of more labor in one enterprise, and
tlie application of larger capital, in order to cheapen produc-
tion.

One has only to look at Great Britain: Tlirougliout the
South, there was a large and growing class of thrifty yeomen
farmers, who, while slaveholders, labored regularly witli their
slaves. This class did more really verify that pleasing picture
of labor done from enlightened self-interest; because the one
or two blacks "keeping row about" with their master and liis
sturdy sons, were carried forward by example, affection and
emulation, and not by the lash. But since the tendency of the
hireling system is to have even more of tlie labor done by mere
hirelings, than was ever done at the South by slaves; it is
enough to ask the practical man: Can not a mere hireling be
a time server? Cannot he also cheat his employer of the due
task? Is the fear of losing the shilling any higher motiVe than
the feaj of the lash?

As to the universal plague and curse of inefficiency in hire-
ling labor, let Mr. John Stuart Mill's melancholy testimony be
heard. Speaking of the heavy losses experienced by the hire-
ling societies of Europe through the low moral tone of the la-
borers, he sighs thus: Book I. ch. 9, p. 173: "All who have
ever employed hired labor have had ample experience of the
efforts made to give as little labor in exchange for the wages, as
is con:.patiible with not being turned off. There is universal
neglof. by domestic servants of their employers' interests — un-
less where long continuance in the same service and reciprocal
go )d offices have produced personal attachment." And this is
exactly what the Southern system did. "Friendly relations and
ecnimunity of interests and feelings between laborers and em-
ployers are eminently so" (conducive to profit). "I should rather
say: would be so, for I know not where any such sentiment of
friendly alliance now exists.'' (We add the emphasis of the
"italics," Bk. I. Ch. 12, p. 234.)

Had Mr. Mill allowed himself to look at the Southern la-
bor system with eyes unclouded by prejudice, he would have
seen precisely this relationship between laborers and employ-
ers, which he sighs for as the hopeless ideal.

376 FOEMEE LABOR SYSTEM OP THE SOUTHEEN V. 8.

The adult bondsman usually felt as much pride and zeal
for the success of the year; for the cleanest fields; for the finest
sample of cotton or tohacco, or the highest price, as the master;
often more. In their comparisons of the farms with each other,
the speakers belonging to different masters, it was always:
"Our crop"; "our prices"; "our victory" in the race for the
largest return. The reproach of a crop in the grass was their
personal humiliation. The loss of grain hy a freshet, or of cat-
tle hy disaster, was always their loss. Often and often, in the
former contingency, were the negroes seen far more zealous to
rescue the precious harvest from the rising waters than the mas-
ter: S3 that he would he heard recalling them with entreaties
and commands, against their protests, from farther risk of
health or life. Of course all this sounds very strange to a mind
deluged with imaginary tales of plantation despotism. But all
is credihle to any intelligent man, who remembers how certain-
ly the warm tie of clanship and feudal allegiance sprang up,
between all wholesome natures brought into the domestic rela-
tion of superior and inferior. In the 16th century, the power
of the Highland Chief In Scotland, over his "gilly," was prac-
tically all that a master's eould he over a serf: as truly for life,
as unrestrained, as complete. But every clansman to the low-
est "gilly" was inflamed with the pride and zeal of his clan; he
impers'Onated it in his Chief; he stood ready to die for him.

He who would understand the Southern system must also
give the adult 'hondsman credit for a grade of intelligence, vast-
ly higher than the scanty use he made of letters would imply.

It must 'he remembered, that this hlack man has grown up
in domestic intimacy and friendship with his master, a member
of the most cultured race in Christendom. The hlack man has
heard and joined in his conversation. He has heard the preach-
ing of his master's pastor. In sickness he has heen Instructed
and treated hy his scientific physician. He has heen taught at
least the practical part (often the theoretic) of that skillful and
enlightened method of agriculture, in which he is occupied, and
of the constant use of the hest mechanical appliances in the
world. He has heen the Intimate and interested spectator of a
large and sagacious domestic economy. To suppose that such
a hondsman does not comprehend his own and his family's in-
terest in the plantation would he a blunder much more stupid
than Africans usually make,

FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OP THE SOUTHERN V. 6. 377

No; he comprehends perfectly, that this plantation is vir-
tually a joint stock enterprise under the master's presidency.
That as he has received from it his nurture in boyhood; so he
is now indebted to it for certain employment, subsistence and
home: That it assumes for him the certain and comfortable
support of his wife and children, whether sickness, or drought,
or freshet or hail come or no: That it is the safe savings bank,
into which he is now annually putting the fund, which is un-
failing to support him in his old age, ''sitting under his owin
vine and fig tree," without labor or care: That the insolvency
of the enterprise, through the laborers' fault would be the dread-
ed loss of all these hoarded advantages, and would imply risk
of separations, impoverishment, and banishment from his here-
ditary home. The intelligent black well understood all this.
Hence, the plantation usually displayed as the result of loyal
affection, and reasonable self-interest the nearest approach seen
under any modern system, to Mr. Mill's ideal relation of labor.
There was no hireling labor on earth, requiring so little of the-
expense of supervision; no laborers who executed so much la-
bor with so little of the eye of master, overseer, or "boss" upon
them.

The remarks thus far made have been directed chiefly to
obviating errors and objections; we advance to more positive
arguments. The first is:

1. One exceedingly simple, though surprisingly overlook-
ed. Let there be two societies, in each of which there is a body
of people without capital, who should therefore be workers, and
who must be consumers, and of equal numbers. In the one so-
(■iety, there is no positive authority to make any of this body
work, who do not choose. The consequence is, that one-third of
them do not choose, work none, and live by preying on the
fruits of others' labor. But the two-thirds being freely moved
thereto: we may suppose work very well. In the other society,
there is a firm practical authority, which compels every one to
work six days in every week. They may not work quite so well
as the voluntary workers in the other society — we may concede
merely for argument's sake — yet, as there are three to two, a
good deal more is done; a good many more values are produced,
and, above all, the society is delivered from the consuming pest
(>f the idlers, and all the vices, disorders, and interruptions sug-

378 FOKMEE LABOB STSTJfiM OF THE 80UTHBEN U. S.

gested by idleness. Such waa the literal difference between the
Southern system and its rival.

The former had, in its laboring class, no able-bodied idlers,
110 "tramps," no "boys," no strong men wasting their strength
on "hurdy gurdies" and dancing monkeys; no such thing as a
"criminal class," and very few criminals. The economic advan-
tage is too plain to dispute.

2. The expense of dealing with, and providing for the
pauper and criminal classes is a dead charge on the production
of the society. In a hireling society, it ds relatively a very oner-
ous one. The subsistence of paupers, at public, instead of pri-
vate expense, implies the additional cost of buildings, officials
to be salaried, and the waste and speculation commonly attend-
ing public administration. As to the "dangerous classes," they
must be watched by a costly, and most often, an inefficient po-
lice. Then there must be well paid sheriffs to arrest them, pa-
latial jails to secure them, salaried judges to try them, all the
apparatus of a costly legal profession to prosecute and defend
them and at last, enormous and expensive penitentiaries to pun-
ish them in, at the cost of the honest workers. Look now, at
the simplicity and economy of the Southern system.

There were almost no white paupers: and there could not
be in a whole State, a single black one. The infirm were cared
for by the masters, on the plantations, with no additional charge
for lodging, nursing, or attending. This reduced the cost of
the charity to that of simple food, clothing and medicine.

4 There was no criminal class, and consequently, not one dol-
lar of cost for police. The plantation policed itself. Felonies
prosecuted before the courts of the country were very few ; and
justice was administered by the master himself, for all those
minor offenses (which in hireling societies require so expensive
an apparatus of police, courts, lawyers, costs, prisons) without
one cent of charge, without officials, without any prison or
court house, without the loss of a day's labor by the culprit. His
offense was simply examined by his master, almost invariably
a judicious and moderate judge; he was either cleared, scolded,
or switched; and went at once back to his work.

No word is needed to show how favorable the morality of
a population is to production. The Southern system not only
reduced to the minimum cost the prosecution of such law

rORMBR LABOR SYSTEM OF THB SOUTHERN U. 8. 379

breakers as she had, but astonishingly reduced their numbers,
by improving the practical morality of her people. The South-
ern system was the most effective temperance society in the
world. The regular supervision and methodical employment
removed the laborers from temptation ; and in the few cases of
intoxication, a smart application of the birch was a better re-
cipe to produce immediate relief, than all the materia medica.
It is probable that up t3 1860, there was not one drunkard's
grave filled by a bondsman in America. There was no loss of
time from dissipation, little waste of values in liquors, and no
police expense about disorders. Thus in 1850, when the whole
population of the North was about thirteen and a half millions,
and of the South nine and a half (whites and blacks) the hireling
societies had 23,664 criminal convictions, while the South had
2,921. The same year the North was supporting 114,704 pau-
pers; the South 20,563. In Boston, Mass., and the adjacent
county, the persons in jails, houses of correction, or refuge, and
almshouses, bore among the 'blacks, the ratio of one to sixteen
of that population; and among the whites, of one to every thirty-
four. The same year in Richmond, Va., the same unhappy class-
es bore^ among the blacks, the ratio of one to forty-six, and
among the whites, of one to one hundred and twelve. Had the
industry of the hireling system really been greatly more profit-
able than that of the Southern, the expense of all this excess of
crime would have eaten up the whole overplus and more.

3. The Southern system always presented an economic ad-
vantage, in the stable and peaceable relation it established be-
.tween capital and labor. Every year since its overthrow has
but illustrated this advantage, and sober minds were never so
well prepared to appreciate it, as by the strikes and angry con-
tests between employers and hirelings, which approach every
season more nearly the fearful dimensions of anarchy and civil
war. How shall capital enjoy that quiet, sure and steady cou-
Irol of hireling labor, which is absolutely essential to produc-
tion; and yet hireling latoor be protected against injustice, and
against that depression of wages under their stern law of sup-
])ly and demand in an increasing population, which pauperizes
labor? This is the insoluble question, the very crux of the
scientific economists, before which they stand confused and
helpless. The "labor unions" may result in aiiarchy, or in com-

380 FORMKR LABOR SYSTEM 0? TDE 8UUTHEKN U. S.

munism, or in a "reign of terror": they will never lead to a
wholesome solution.

The S6uthern system solved it, so far as the classes of la-
borers under it was engaged, by a simple and complete remedy.
This was to abolish the very conditions of the strife, by making
the laborer the property of the capitalist. One result efficacious-
ly secured was, that the laborers could never be pauperized or
reduced below a comfortable and efficient standard of subsist-
ence: because the capitalist, in doing this, would be destroying
his own property. Another result was, that there were no con-
troversies nor strikes, so wasteful of time and subsistence, and
so obstructive of production. Still another was, that it was
impossible for the laborer ever to feel that most cruel of all
wants, the want of work, while willing to work, and pressed
'by starvation if he did not.

The South, instead of ever witnessing that pitiful and har-
rowing scene lately enacted in London, when six thousand des-
perate men with starving wives and children behind them,
beset the government offices demanding, in vain, not bread, but
work, to be beaten back by the police; never once in a century
saw the head of one black family "out of work" except on his
intended holidays.

For the master knew that, whether any work were going
01. or not he had that family to feed and clothe, and preserve
from destitution, to this both the law and his own interests
must imperiously force him. Hence the master felt a power-
ful interest in foreseeing, in prearranging, in dedicating his
own capital to some useful labor, which if not immediately pro-
ductive, would ultimately be so; so that in every emergency
there should be for his laborers some work compensated by
subsistence. Tt the price of a product fell, by some commercial
or political cause, 'beneath the l^vel of profitable production,
the master did not and could not resort to the usual relief of
the hireling system: suspend all production and dismiss the la-
borers to starve, if it might be so! No : he suspended this produc-
tion, and directed the labor at once to some other task provided
by his capital and foresight. If the given farm staple ceased to
pay the cost of production, the farm, labor was diverted from
rt to some extensive work of drainage, stone fencing, clearing,
or other amelioration which would increase future productions;

foemke labob system of the SODTHIEJX U. 8. 381

while the laborers drew, in advance, out of his capital, their
accustomed comfortable remuneration.

4. In appraising the wealth of the South, we noticed the
objection to counting the labor of the Africans as property, and
while we demurred to its justice, we waived discussing it, an
not desiring here to raise the ethical question. But all the
laws, all the business usages, and the full faith of the country
I'l garded that labor as property. It was taxable (not only with
a poll, but a property tax), was vendible, could be bequeathed,
and made subject to lien, or hire. From this usage the indus-
try of the country derived at least this advantage: That the
basis of credits was thus very greatly widened. The prudent
use of credits is a wonderful aid to production. When a debt
exists, it is a great advantage to the business of the country,
that the just creditor shall find assets out of which to realize
payment. A "bad debt" is usually a dead loss to the productive
capital of the country. To strip a business man of the means
of giving security for a loan, is to strip him of oommerclial,
credit, and thus to cripple his prosperity by a most hurtful im-
position. Thus the smaller business man of Texas is already
beginning to learn that the various homestead, and exemption
laws, making it impossible for him, even by his own consent,
to use his property as security for loans, injure instead of pro-
tecting him. Their only effect is to shut him inexorably out from
what perhaps is most essential for his prosperity, all access to
a cheap loan market. He is stripped of the power of commer-
cial credits as though a pauper. Thus, this legislation, which
professes to protect the families of small means, is really a law
to tie the hands of the poor man and give the rich man, who'
has sufficient property over and above all exemptions to offer
full security, a deadly advantage against him in the loan mar-
ket. The hireling system wrought a parallel disadvantage
against its people, as compared with the South, by affecting to
regard labor as not a value, and thus crippling the power to
borrow : while the South, by making so large a part of its labor
a value, doubled its solid credit.

5. Among the most luminous and valuable contributions
to economic science in our age, are those investigations by
which the English writers. Mill and Wakefield, and numerous
accurate French and German observers have proved, and ex-

382 FORMISE LABOB SYSTEM OF THE 80UTHEEN tf. S.

plained, the superior economy of moderately large over small
productive operations. Indeed, the demonstration is practical-
ly so sweeping, in the •manufacturing industries, that it has
revolutionized the civilized world. The individual producerhas
been annihilated by being undersold by the larger manufac-
turer.

Where is the hand loom: the domestic forge producing
axes, hoes, horseshoes, the country wheelwright, the country
shoemaker? The farm cannot even afford to produce its own
axe-helve, though the hickory may grow in its hedge row.

The same economic rule applies to moderately large agri-
culture, as compared with peasant proprietors. The large farm-
ing produces more economically, because it permits more ap-
plication of the all-impDPtant principle of "division of labor.'"
It allows that assortment of labor, applying the cheaper hands
to the lighter tasks, which save so much.

On the well organized Southern farm, the plough, the axe,
the scythe, the hoe, the team offered constant and remunera-
tive work to the strong men; while the less valuable labDr of the
boys and girls, and the elderly, was equally as effective in the
lighter task. But on the peasant proprietor's farm, the strong
man, whose every day should have been worth to him a dollar,
is compelled to spend many days in picking beans; where the
child, worth a shilling a day, would pick as many. The larger
farm permits the essential advantage of combination of labor.
How can one man stack sheaves of grain, without a waste of
time and toil almost heartbreaking, in descending from the
stack, and ascending with every handful of sheaves? This is
the extreme instance. But there are many operations, in which
four or five men can easily do more than four or five times as
much as one man. All the purchases for the large farm can
be made more savingly, because in larger quantities and at a
wholesale price. But especially is the gain great in the em-
ployment of better implements and machinery. The Southern
planter or farmer usually employed a part of his capital lib-
erally, in providing these known to science. But how can the
peasant proprietor of Belgium or Prance, whose farm is five
acres, afford a three-horse plow, that essential of thorough till-
age; or, indeed, any plow at all? Or a McOormick's reaper, or
mower? Or an effective thresher? He produces his little crops

fOfeMKll LABOR SYSl'EM OF THE SOUTHERN TT. S. 383

(confessedly large for his minute surface) at a wasteful expense
of time and toil, with the spade, the wheelbarrow, the sickle
and the flail. The attempt has been made to foil these facts, by
assenting, that a richer peasant, or oo-partnership, may own
the thresher, and perambulate the neighborhood, hiring it out.
This only palliates the evil. A large percentage of the time is
lost, removing and re-setting the heavy machinery; many la-
borers have to be specially hired, at very special prices: and
the tolls charged are always much above just cost. Many
praises have been bestowed upon the economy of these small
peasant farms.: "The very grass along the gutters of the
chaussee, the succulent Weeds from the tdws of the sugar beet
field, are all saved for the domestic animals." Yes but at a
ruinous cost of wasted time. This is the shape which the sen-
sible observer sees these savings take in those countries. He
sees a bevy of five, seven or ten strapping young women, sally-
ing forth at 1 o'clock p. m. from the "D9rf," each with her little
sickle and huge hamper, to spend the long, bright afternoon in
a tramp of a mile and a half to their parents' little sections, and
in saving and bearing home (converting themselves into 'beasts
of burden) each, two pfenwings' worth weeds or grass to be fed
to the calf or milch goat. But those girls, on a well ordered
Virginia farm, would have raked, dried, and loaded on the well-
appointed wagons, in that one afternoon ten or twenty tons of
clover hay or wheat sheaves, or oats: or later in the season
have gathered each 150 pounds of seed cotton, at the minimum
average of 50 cents per hundred pounds. These were friglft-
fully wasteful savings: They are only justified by the fact, that
the bad organization of this, so-called "free labor system," has
made this labor, which should be so valuable, nearly worthless
to their families.

Now, the force of these facts is in the following view. That
If the advocate of the hireling system is t9 evade this fatal argu-
ment, he must advocate large farming by hireling labor. But
the moment he does so, he must bid farewell to all his pretty
Arcadian pictures of the snug little "glebe tilled by the willing
hands of the peasant proprietor, instead of the loitering, reluc-
tant slave." He must accept and justify all those consequen-
res, which the universal experience of hireling States prDve to
be inseparable from high farming with adequate capital and

S84 FOKMER labor system of the SOtJTHEEN tT. 8.

science: the eviction of the cotton tenantry: the horrible "gang
system" of field labor: the polluting "bothy-system" of lodging,
and the brutal abominations disclosed by the British parlia-
ment as to their large agriculture. Such, indeed, is the unavoid-
able tendency of the hireling system in this age of mechanical
improvement: for it leads directly to the heaping up of unduly
large fortunes (for reasons to be shown) and the inflation of
money-oligarchs, "making the rich richer and the poor poorer."
But the Southern system, while not favorable to these dispro-
portioned aggregations, opposed an effectual barrier to thoee
mischievously small subdivisions of the land, to which the
small holdings must inevitably run in a democracy.

The drift of the system was to fill the country chiefly (with
a few exceptions like that of Washington of Mt. Vernon) with
moderate holdings, from those of the snug yeomanry with two
or three bondsmen to the easy country gentleman with some
hundreds of acres.

The smallest were not too small to employ most of the
profitable appliances; the largest were not so large as to be
cumbersome.

No economist disputes the extreme advantage of intelli-
gence to production, especially in these days of applied science.
Now, the man addicted to daily toil cannot usually acquire the
intelligence, or the knowledge of the sciences bearing on pro-
duction, which is the customary possession of the master, whose
labors are chielly those of superintendence, and who, though a
buay man, yet had time for reading. Thus the result of the
Southern system was, that the best, the most advanced mind
of the society had the full direction of the methods of the opera-
tions. The "field hands" and especially the "head men" were
usually very skillful in their manual labor; capital practical
"crop masters'- for the ordinary crops, good judges of weather,
of the proper tillage and harvesting of those crops, and handlers
of teams. The landholders were in addition, men of reading,
acquainted with every advance in machinery, applied science,
chemical manures, the physiology of stock breeding ; and eager
for every enlightened experiment in husbandry.

6. It is as true in political, as in household economy, that
"saving is more than making." The growth of capital depends
proximately on the saving. Of course, natural agents, pre-ex-

irOftJlBft LABOR srSTBM OB* THB 80TTTHBEN, V. S. 385

isting capital, and labor must first create the additional values.
But whether they shall be annihilated in unproduction, con-
sumption, or be added to the saved up and devoted to reproduc-
tive consumption, depends wholly on their being saved. Now,
saving means self-denial. Self-denial means the mental and
moral ability to appreciate a distant invisible future good: that
namely, to be hereafter yielded by subsequent returns of the
capital saved; more than a present visible one. The public con-
ditions favorable for such saving are, of course, security of
rights and possessions, and quiet and stability of governments.
But the personal conditions which stimulate them to save are,
as plainly, intelligence, self-control, virtue and aspirations. The
more animal and sensuous holder of newly acquired values will
prefer the immediate and visible enjoyments they potentially
contain. The more intellectual holder will prefer the invisi-
ble, distant, but larger good they can yield, not once, but an-
nually, as reproductive capital. The more selfish man will
prefer at once to gratify himself: The more disinterested and
virtuous man will think more of the good of his children and
country.

We hence expect, just what all history proves: that the
most intelligent and elevated classes are always the most sav-
ing, in proportion to their acquisitions. No one has argued this
more powerfully, or illustrated it more profusely, than Mr. Mill.
Political Econ. Bk. I. Ch. II.

Hence, it is always more favorable to the steady growth
of capital, that the successive years' earnings of the society Ibe
controlled and administered by the highest class. No kind of
society ever attained this result so completely as the Southern.
For, the owner as master not only disposed of the revenue of
the estate, directed its whole expenditure or investment; but
as guardians of the laborers and their families, he and his wife
administered the year's supply of food, clothing and comforts,
for them all. Even had the master and mistress had no higher
standard of forecast, prudence and adminis^trative skill than
the average African, this would have still resulted in a great
economy. Let us say that there were seven laborers' families.
There wap a much greater saving of supplies and of labor and
of time, in having the hou-sekeeping of the whole directed by
one head, rather than having seven separate kitchens, each

386 FOEMKlt J.ABOB 8T8TBM OF THB SOUTHERN IT. 8.

with its streams of pettj' wastes, seven laundries, and seven
varying mapagements : the major part of them recklessly waste-
ful. Now add to this the executive and directing skill of the
most intelligent, foreseeing and responsible couple of all on
the plantation (the master and his wife) and the advantage be-
comes grand. Consequently, no cluster of seven laboring men's
families in any country of the world got so much of material
go«d and comfort out of the portion of revenue set apart for
them, as the bondsmen on the plantation.

Wastes were minimized; an enlightened system and econ-
omy presided over all.

This saving administration appeared especially at one
point, when observers from hireling States perversely insisted
on seeing the main evidence of Southern poverty. No business
man nor economist would dare to dispute this proposition:
That it is conducive to the putolic wealth to have values not
only produced, or created, as economically as possible, but also
circulated as economically as possible. For in fact, the labor
of circulation,' distribution, which is commercial industry, is
also production. In transferring and dividing a value for the
intending consumer, this industry has as truly created an in-
crement of value in the commodity, as the manufacturer has,
who turns a woolen fleece into a coat. Every agent of distribu-
tion then, who really contributes an agency essential to circu-
lation of the commodity, is a producing agent. But he who
has included himself into the circulation, where his agency
rea'lly contributes nothing valuable to the process, is worse
than a non-productive agent — he is a nuisance, grasping a wage
for a service not needed, and eating up the values produced by
honester men than himself. Thus in the change of a fleece into
a useful coat, the industry of the spinner, the weaver, and the
cloth dresser; was each useful, and created an item of additional
value. But let us suppose that another fellow had intruded
himself into the manufacture as second dyer, insisting on do-
ing something to the color of the cloth, which was already per-
fect, and charging his share of wages therefor ; he would have
been a mischievous consumer, instead of a productive agent.

So every "middleman" in the operations of circulation of
commodities, whose intervention is unnecessary, is an unpro-
ductive consumer. His gains are his fellow-citizens' losses; and

POKMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN V. S. 387

his activity and prosperity are nuisances. Just such nuisances
the Southern system avoided, by the simple method of a do-
mestic economy which distributed the products needed for sub-
sistence among the bondsmen, without any commercial appara-
tus, or prafit-charges. That useless middleman, the retail pro-
vision merchant, was eliminated. The farmer who employed
the adults of, say, seven fapiilies, reserved in his own granary
out of the crop reared by the conjoined agency of his capital
and supervision, and their labor, four hundred bushels of grain
for their bread. These breadstuff, when graund by his order,
were issued for the daily food of all the families, most prob-
ably under the mistress' eye. Let us now suppose this farm
C3nducted by hired labor, representing the working force of
seven families. The proprietor has no use tor these four hun-
dred bushels of grain; he sells it at the wholesale price. But
the laborers must eat; they buy the same grain from the grocery
store, enhanced by the C3st of two handlings and two trans-
portations, and also by the. retail profit. The difference is that
the praprietor does not get any more; and laborers pay much
more foi their subsistence. The gross and shrewd feUow who
has intruded himself between proprietor and laborer, grasps a
lar^e profit, but praduces nothing.

Yet the economists of hireling States have actually been
blind enough to point b3 this contrast between their countries
and tin bcuth, as proofs of their thrift. Their rural regions
are dotted over with large and pretentious "stores," where the
corn, wool, butter, leather, and even soft-soap, which the labor-
ers should have drawn directly from the employers, at whole-
sale prices, are resold to them at high retail prices, to the ser-
ious reduction of the avails of their labor, with no compensat-
ing production for the community in any shape. And this
mischievous bustle is called prosperity! It would be exactly
parallel to argue that hireling labor was more gainful, because
hireling societies had larger jails.

7. One more view remains, confirming and explaining the
superior economical results of the Southern system: It is at
once the most fundamental and the most grateful to the phil-
anthropic mind. Our system exerted a powerful influence
against unproductive consumption of values, and in favor of
productive consumption; by constraining the proprietor to ap-

388 FOEMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOOTH KRN V. S.

propriate the largest share of his annual revenue to his ser-
vants' c9mfortable subsistence, and to suitable appliances for
their productive employment during the next season. Every
economist knows the difference: every, mind of common sense
ought t(i know it.

For instance : Previous labor, with the aid of capital, has
produced a half ton of coal. This may be used to form the neu-
cleus of a great bonfire, at a political jollification. It is so
consumed as to be annihilated as a value, and that forever, leav-
ing no production behind it. Or, it may be used to heat a charge
in the furnace of a foundry, by which pig-iron worth one and
one-half cents per pound, is converted into utensils, as tea-
kettles, stoves, and so forth, worth five cents per pound. There
is a creation here of new values in the pre-existing material
represented by three and a half cents per pound. Now again,
this C9al is consumed : as truly as in the bonfire, and is no more
anything but vapor and ashes. But its value reappears in the
new values of the iron utensils, and that with increase. It needs
no arguing, that unproductive consumption is destructive to all
increment of capital: and thus to future production, by the
means of that value; while productive consumption reproduces
capital and enlarges it, thus providing for future production
ever after. Let another fact be added, known to all economists:
That the presence of capital is one of the most essential con-
ditions f9r enlarging the demand for labor, thus tending to
give employment to more human hands, and at better prices.

* A weak and indeed wicked attempt has been made to parry
this view by arguing that the demand for luxuries by persons
receiving large revenues, is favorable to the working classes:
inasmuch as it makes a market for products, circulates money,
and thus "encourages industry." Thirty years ago we refuted
this doctrine,' in an argument which has been several timps
jeered at, but never answered.

The potent authority of Say sustained the truths, at that
early day. It is pleasant to find the same correct view now
supported by Mill and the current of recent economists. The
outline of our argument is this: That since the consumption
of luxuries is unproductive consumption, notwithstanding a
partial and temporary gain, in the form of wages, for the lux-
ury produced : the ultimate result is the destruction of values,

FORMER LABOR SYSTSM OF THE SOUTHERN U. 8. 380

the diminution of capital, and thus, an inevitable restrictiDn in
the demand for labor in general, a decline in its wages, and a
scarcity of the staple values, which these prDducera of luxuries
should have been creating, for the common good. Just in the
degree there is luxurious expenditure at the upper end of the
social ladder, there must be destitution and misery at the lower
end, for want of employment, and of necessary articles of sub-
sistence. This is confirmed by the facts in every luxurious so-
ciety on earth. This consumption of luxuries does not en-
courage, but misdirects industry. Now there is more than one
way, in which the hireling system promotes luxurious and un-
productive consumption, more than the Southern system did.
It has a much stronger tendency to make the rich richer and
the poor poorer, to create excessive wealth in a few hands. This
at once enables and tempts the very rich to this waste of reve-
nue, so adverse to the growth of capital and prosperity of labor.
But chiefly the hireling system releases proprietors from a
wholesome and beneficent check, jvhich the Southern system
operated. To the capitalist who hires, the laborer is nothing
after the production is completed. If he perishes, the employer
is not concerned; he has lost nothing, he has only to step out
into the teeming labor market, to fill the vacant place — such an
employer then naturally feels more inclined to use spare revenue
in pomps and Indulgences. But the Southern system' made the
labor of the African property, created an omnipotent motive in
the master to preserve not only its existence, but its health
and efBciency, and besides, appealed to his self-respect, and to
the domestic tie to reinforce this obligation. Hence, as SDon
as the annual revenue was ascertained, the prDprietor appro-
priated, as a first charge upon it, so much as would subsist the
Africans for another year, and this subsistence must come up
to such a level as would not Duly preserve their lives, but their
health and efBciency. Next, the proprietor must unavoidably
set off so much, for an addition, or reparation to his working
capital, as was necessary to provide the full means and appli-
ances for the ensuing year's industrial operations. And as he
knew that he was responsible for making that coming year a
profitable one, and that the calamity of an unsuccessful one
must strike him first and mainly : both interest and stern neces-
sity forbade his stinting that appropriation. If worn or an-

390 FOBMEB LABOB SYSTEM Or THE BOUTHEBK TT. B.

tiquated tools and machinery needed to be replaced; if drainage
and permanent fencing were called for; If the arrival of new
laborers at. adult age called for a larger area of land to be either
cleared or purchased; all these moist perforce form a prior
charge on revenue. Not until both these demands were met,
and met without grudging, could one dollar of revenue be taken
for superfluities. If no surplus remained, the results were per-
fectly simple: Madame must just postpone the pnrchase of
the new carriage or carpet. Mademoiselle must just do with-
out the new piano another season. Young master mnst forego
the blood saddle-horse, and even, in all probability put off the
University; and go to teaching for a year, instead, so as to earn
money to pay his own education.

This picture is perfectly sustained by all who know the
two sections by personal observation. Partisans spoke of the
South as "the aristocratic section." But while her proprietors
sought solid comfort, kept a good table, chiefly from the re-
sources of the mistresses' admirable skill, devotion and econ-
omy, as housewives; and always practiced a liberal and social
hospitality, men of equal wealth usually expended about one-
fifth of the sums wasted by their Northern equals, in equipage
and luxuries. In one prosperous trading town of the North you
should find more palatial residences than in all the Southern
continent from the Potomac to the Gulf. The good, solid, plain,
old ancestral dwelling of the planter owning $100,000, wonld
have been pulled away as rubbish by the New York man, who
had gotten his $50,000, and was setting up his home on Sixth
(not to say Fifth) avenue. Two Richmond merchants, in New
York before the war, were taking the air in Fifth avenue. They
passed the new glittering palace of a parvenue mannfactnrer.
After admiring its costly elegance, the younger pointed his
friend to a smaller house in the rear, with brown-stone walls
and plate glass windows, asking, "Can you surmise, B., what
that is?" B. could not. "Why, that is the owner's stable."
"Then," exclaimed B., "I wonder if he would not let me be his
horse?" Old Mr. B.'s jest was perfectly sober; although he
was, in descent, in integrity, in courtesy and in intelligence,
truly a merchant prince ; the dwelling which he inherited from
a distinguished father, and in which he was then dispensing an
elegant hospitality and rearing a ciiltivated family, had a much

FOBHIEB LABOB SYSTEM OF THE BOnTHEBN n. B. 391

less pretentious exterior than the parvenue's stable. This con-
trast was typical.

It is easy for the economist to infer how promotive of solid
progressive wealth that system must have been, which regu-
larly laid its prior liens on revenue, in favor of the productive
laborers and the producing capital, instead of luxuries and
equipage, and the costly pomps of unproductiye architecture.

And it is easy for the heart of the philailthropist to decide
which is the more pleasing aspect: that which treated the. la-
borers employed as mere tools of production, to be discarded
when used; or that which ensured their having the prior lien
on the profits of their own labor?

MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, I). D.

PREFACE.

The board of directors of Union Seminary, at their annual
meeting after the death of Dr. Saimpson, determined that it was
proper t3 present to the churches, his brethren, and former pu-
pils, some memorial of his Christian and professional character.
They requested me to prepare such a sketch; and the following
sketch is the result. So lap as a full and intimate acquaintance
with his life, first as a pupil, and then as a colleague, can qual-
ify one for such a task, that qualification I possess. And if an
ardent personal attachment unfits one to draw the character of
its object impartially, I must confess to this disqualification. It
is for those who knew Dr. Sampaon as well as I did, to judge
whether the portraiture is accurate. I can express no better
wish towards all his brethren and format' pupils, than that the
reading of this humble tribute to their lost friend, may give
them the same mournful delight, and the same elevating and
purifying lessons, which its preparation has given me. It is
now affectionately dedicated to the Alumni of Union Theologi-
cal Seminary, to the candidates for the ministry, and tO' the
Christian young men of the Synods of North Carolina and Vir-
ginia.

A life, spent, like Dr. Sampson's, far from the stormier
scenes of the world, amidst scholastic shades, offers little ma-
terial for narrative. I have, therefore, only attempted, after
giving a brief O'Utline of his uneventful life, to unfold the na-
ture of his work and his character, and to indicate some of those
lessons which they teach us.

ROBERT L. DABNEY,
Union Theological Seminary, Va.
May 28th, 1855.

INTBODUCTORY OUTLINE.

Dr. Sampson was the son of Mr. Richard Sampson, an em-
inent' and respected agriculturist in the neighiborhood of the
Dover Mills, in the county of Goochland. He was bDm between
the 1st and 5th of November, A. D. 1814. In 1830, he was
placed at the school, and in the family of that man of Giod, Rev.
Thornton Rogers, of Albemarle, who was his maternal uncle.
Here he made a profession of religion, was baptized, and be-
came a member of the Presbyterian church in Charlottesville,
then in charge of Rev. Francis Bowman, on the 13th of August,
1831. The 10th of September of the same year, he entered the
University of Virginia, and continued his studies there till July,
1836, taking a very extensive and thorough course Df study, not
only in the academic departments, but in the schools of junior
law, anatomy and physiology, and securing the degree of M. A.
which was then, as now, attained by very few. November 9th,
1836, he entered Union Theological Seminary, Va. On the resig-
nation Df Professor Ballantine, in the spring of 1838, he was
made teacher of Hebrew, and from that time continued to per-
form other duties of the oriental department. He was licensed
by East Hanover Presbytery in October, 1839, and ordained as
an evangelist by the same Presbytery in October, 1841. In July,
1848, he took a journey to Europe, tor the prosecution of his
oriental studies, and returned in August, 1849, having spent
the year chiefly at the Universities of Halle and Berlin. lu
October, 1848, he was elected professor of oriental literature and
languages in the Seminary; but he had for many years per-
formed the work of a full professor, though with the title and
compensation of an assistant, and had long been esteemed as
second to none of his colleagues in the value of his labors.
About the time of his return frDm Germany, he also received
the honorary degree of D. D. from Hampden Sidney college.
He fell asleep Sabbath, the 9th of April, 1854, only thirty-nine
years and five months old.

Thus brief and uneventful is the record of his life, which
was passed almost wholly in the quiet shades of colleges. But
the results of this life have n!>t therefore been unimportant.
The attempt will be made to draw the features of his character
as a Christian and Christian minister, a scholar and an instruc-
tor, in order that we may praise God for his grace manifested
in him, and may receive the advantages of an example most
modest, and yet illustrious.

CHAPTER I.

Person and Constitution. Dignity and Courtesy of Manner. Early
Habits and Maxims. Influence of Example in a Different Sphere

Dr. Sampson was in person light and graceful, and of a
florid complexion. Although his family has shown pulmonary
tendencies in several of its members, and his own lungs were
ultimately much impaired in their soundness, for the first thirty
years of his life he enjoyed, by virtue of great temperance, most
uniform health, and endured an immense amount of severe
study. After he reached that age, he was gradually broken
down by several attacks of acute disease, and though his health
gave a delusive promise of restoration the last year of his life,
he finally fell before a short and violent attack of pneumonia.

His personal. habits, as to diet, sleep and recreation, were
simple, methodical and temperate, without being ascetic. His
dress was scrupulously neat and appropriate, without the faint-
est approach to display. In his approaches to his fellow men
there was the happiest union of unaffected modesty and grace-
ful quietude with Christian dignity. Yet his was a dignity
which repelled no advances of affection or confidence, nor any-
thing but impertinence. His friends who most desired to see
him shine in society as his solid worth entitled him, sometimes
accounted him too modest. Yet, with a modesty which almost
amourited to diflfldence, he was the farthest of all men from a
timid or truckling expression of his opinions. When an er-
roneous sentiment which he conceived to be of any importance
was thrust upon him' in conversation, he most distinctly de-
fended his own opinion, with a singular union of inflexible,
even impracticable mental honesty and courteous deference.
He was the last man in the world to be wheedled into the soft-
ening of a truth down, or the admission of a faint shade of the
error he had been opposing, by any of the blandishments of
politeness, or by the fear of seeming too pertinacious. Much
of the singular amiability of his social character is no doubt to
be attributed to the influence of grace. Had he grown up uu-

MEMOIRS OF FEA1T0I8 8. SAMPSON, D D. 395

converted, he would have been known as a man of high and
determined temper, of energetic will, and persevering activity.
Divine grace softened what wa« violent, and refined what was
valuable in this temperament, until the result was a rare and
lovely union of the strong and the sweet.

One of Dr. Sampson's most striking and valuable natural
traits was his methodical industry. To any one who knows his
ancestry, it is very plain that this quality was received from
them, both by inheritance and inculcation. That whatever is
worth doing, is worth doing well; that each task must be done
with one's might, in just so much time as is needed to do it per-
fectly, and no more; that no task is to be left till all is perfected
which can be done to advantage; these were the rules of work-
ing which he carried with him from the home of his boyhood to
the school, the university, the study, the lecture room. The
same thoroughness, the same deep ploughing, the same com-
plete harrowing, the same utter extirpation of obstructions, the
same perfect finish which characterized the farm of his father,
prevailed in his scholarship and instructisns. It would be hard
to estimate how much of his usefulness and ability was due
to the example and habits thus impressed on his youth. And
we cannot but admire the wisdom of Providence in training,
on such a field and by agencies so unconscious of the divine
purposes, a quality which was afterwards to do so much good
in a higher and nobler sphere of duty. Dr. Sampson, the emi-
nent hebraist, the profound expositor, the masterly instructor,
was but the far-seeing, energetic, able farmer reproduced on
another field of action.

CHAPTEE II.

Enters Rev. Thornton Rogers' School. Relieious Impressions. Decision.
Personal Covenant. Diary. University of "Virginia. Christian
Activity there. Dr. White's Testimony. Goes to Union Theological
Seminary. Zeal. Devotional Spirit. Humility. Liberality.

We cannot proceed farther, without attempting to draw his
Christian character. This was in several respects singular: but
in most, singularly excellent. The neighborhood in which he
Hrew up, was very irregularly supplied with the preaching of

396 MEMOIRS OF FKANOIS S. SAUPSON, O. D.

the Grospel, and was wholly unblessed with a sound pastoral
influence. Consequently, domestic religion and pious training
were nearly unknown. From a brief diary which Dr. Sampsor
kept during a part of the session of 1833-4, we learn that when
he went to the Rev. Mr. Rogers' school, he did not possess a
Bible of his own, and had never read more than very limited
portions of it in his life. His character was wholly irreligious;
and he was given to all the light and corrupting amusements of
fashionable young persons. But he tells us, that the only out-
breaking vice in which he indulged, was profane swearing ; and
this he contracted at the age of twelve, from vexation in a
game of whist, in which he had an unusually bad hand. With
such a character, he found himself in a new world, in the well-
ordered, Christian family of his uncle. There the word of God
was daily read, and his name reverently worshipped in the fam-
ily. Although little personal exhortation was addressed to him
concerning his sins and impenitence, he saw daily illustrations
of the excellence and peace of Christian principles, in the har-
manious happiness of a pious house, where "brethren dwelt
together in unity" ; and above all, where the beauty of holiness
shone from the example of the godly father, as he presided in
the family and school room. In consequence chiefly of these
silent teachings, he gradually fell into a state of profound re-
ligious concern, which continued about twelve months. His
feelings were studiously concealed frMn all, through fear of
ridicule; and the love of sin led him to put forth many and bit-
ter struggles against the Spirit. But the Grod who loved him
would not let him go; and his convictions were from time to
time strengthened. In the spring of 1831, he chanced to hear
a sermon from the Rev. Mr. Staunton, then of Prince Edward,
from the text, "Secret things belong unto the Lord thy Grod,"
which was the means of sweeping away all his objections and
excuses. His convictions now became so pungent that they
compelled him to an outward reform of his life, and to set
about seeking a present Saviour in earnest. But the fear of
reproach and love of sin still made desperate struggles. On one
occasion, while several of his school fellows were engaged with
him in a game of marbles, one of them sneeringly observed,
"Frank must be getting pious. Do you notice, boys, that he has
not been heard to swear for a fortnight?" This taunt stung

MEMOIRS OF FKANClS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 397

him to the quick; and to show that he was not justly liable
to theii- insinuation, he took the very first plausible occasion to
throw out a most profane oath! But this heaven-daring act
was made the crisis of his rebellion. For, his remorse, alarm of
conscience, and fear .of having grieved the Holy Spirit, together
with his convictions of the corruption of his nature, and im-
potence of his own resolutions for piety became immediately
so agonizing, that he was compelled to retire, and cast himself
at once upon the Saviour's mercy. From this hour, his soul
seems to have been built upon the rock Christ Jesus; and his
face was turned decisively heavenward. He now first divulged
his religious feelings to his uncle, in a letter which he handed
him without seal or signature, and which detailed his struggles,
his ignorance, his decision to be on the Lord's side, and his
dawning peace.

Mr. Rogers had often made his salvation the subject of his
secret wrestling with God. But so complete had been the con-
cealment of Dr. Sampson's convictions, that his uncle was at
this very time almost in despair of his conversion. And though
Dr. Sampson had ever been docile and industrious in everything
else, so impressed was his uncle with the evil influence which
his profanity might exert in his family, 'that he had seriously
considered the best means of removing him. As he was the
son of a beloved sister, he had seriously thought of disbanding
his school for a time, as the least painful mode of securing this
end. Indeed, he had only been deterred by intercessions of
others, from carrying this purpose into effect. How delightful,
then, must have been the surprise with which he received this
letter, telling him that the great work had gone on so far under
ground? This curious incident may carry home two truths to
us, "That we should not be weary in well doing; for in due
season we shall reap if we faint not"; and that much of the
seed of truth which we sow is often lost, or smothered, for want
of more constant and tender nursing.

But Dr. Sampson was more the spiritual child of the Rev.
Thornton Rogers, than of any other person. He has often said
that the means which efficaciously awakened him out of death
in trespasses and sins, was not so much any particular sermon
or warning, as the holy and consistent life of his uncle. This

398 MEMOIRS OF PRAlJOIS 8. SAMPSON, D. D

was to him the sermon, the rebuke, the "living epistle," which
revealed to him his spiritual necessities.

Ko man since the Apostle Paul could use mope truthfully
his language, "When it pleased God who separated me from
my mother's womb,- and called me by his grace, to reveal his
Son in me, immediately I conferred not with flesh and blood."
Dr. Sampson was about to leave his uncle's roof, where alone
he could expect to find any religious sympathy among his own
friends, to return for a few weeks to his native neighborhood,
in which every affectionate attention of his relatives would be
a temptation, and where there were no sanctuary privileges nor
Christian communings to help him on his way. Thence he was
to go, in the early autumn, to the University of Virginia — an
institution opened only six years before under infidel auspices,
without prayers, chaplain, Bible class. Sabbath school — yea, we
may say, without Sabbath; so that almost all godly parents kept
th€ir sons away from it with a pious dread; and vital religion
was nearly unknown among its students.

We have seen the strong and almost fatal hold which the
fear of ridicule had on his natural heart. Yet, from the mor
ment his stand was taken, although but a youth of sixteen, fear
was at an end. A courage more fixed than that of man, had
taken possession of his breast. One of his first acts after con-
fessing Christ, was to prepare a written address to his school-
mates, intended for the close of the session, in which he urg«s
upon them the claims of Christianity. These were the same
sch»ol mates, whose ridicule had a little before almost driven
him to reject the Holy Ghost ! In his address, he discusses the
following causes, which induce irreligious men to postpone at-
tention to the Gospel: "An unwarranted dependence on the
general mercy of God ; objections to the incomprehensible mys-
teries contained in the Bible; and especially, the incomprehen-
sibility of the doctrine of a Trinity; cavils against the number
of sects into which Christians are divided, and their bickerings;
and skeptical doubts of the truth of the Scriptures." These
points are discussed, without striking originality indeed, but
with a distinctness of thought, order and justice, most remark-
able in a school boy : and the temper of the address is marked
by a happy union of Christian boldness and affection.

The same decision of religious character marked all his

MBMOIBS OF PRANOIS S. 8AMP80K, D. D. 399

Christian course. His religion was now everythjng. His Bible
was almost his only companion, among hooks. The fact that
he learned so little of Christianity through the colored and
somewhat distorted medium, in which it is presented by the
prescriptive religioua habits and expressions of even good peo-
ple, but drew his religious ideas direct from the Word of G-od,
under the teachings of the Holy Spirit, may account for much
of the excellence and symmetry of his religious character. In
all his intercourse with relatives and associates, in his amuse-
ments and devotions, in everything, the desire to please God was
uppermost.

There yet exists a correspondence of considerable bulk, ex-
t«iding through the Ave years of his University course, and
later, with two favorite female cousins. In these letters, the
desire to benefit their souls and his own, is ever the prominent,
almost the sole concern. The great topic is approached at once,
without squeamish circumlocutions, but with affectionate dig-
nity and delicacy. BLis correspondents are continually reminded,
that the chief aim and glory of a Christian friendsliip should
be, to give and receive edification, by the interchange of ex-
periences and advice. He has no news or gossip to detail. Even
from the first year of his Christian life, these letters show a
depth of experience and a range and fullness of Christian
knowledge, such as we would expect from a mature saint. From
them and his brief diary, we learn with what punctuality and
solemn diligence he engaged in the study of God's Word, search-
ing his own heart, and secret prayer, as the first great business
of each day.

We learn he declined living with a room mate during his
second session, because his room mate the previous session,
though amiable and moral, was unconverted; and his presence
robbed him of his regular hours for secret devotion. In this
exigency he was accustomed to resort to a wooded mountain
hard by, for communion with God. And when, at the beginning
of his third session, he received into his room a young gentle-
man like-minded to himself, who afterwards 'became a most in-
timate Christian friend, an arrangement was made for retire-
ment, as well as daily social prayer. From this friend we learn
that when the hour of secret prayer found him languid and in-
disposed to devotion, instead of making such a state a pretext

4t!0 MiMOIES OF FRANCIS 8. SAMPSOK, D. D

for the postponement of the duty, he found In it a powerful mo-
tive for It* more diligent performance. However fatigued or
overworked, he would take his Bible and read and 'meditate till
he could hDw his knees in the proper frame, saying that this
languor and coldness were the very evidences that he needed
fervent prayer at that special time.

The first of January, 1834, he held a solemn review of the
past year, and the state of his soul, and entered into a formal
written covenant, to which his name is attached, engaging, with
di^•ine assistance, to live a life of entire devotion. The form 3f
covenant is marked as a quotation. Although conceived very
much in the terms of the one given in Doddridge's Base and
Progress, for the young Christian covenanting with GrDd, it is
not copied thence; and the source from which it was taken is
not known. Perhaps it is enough to say that it is couched in
terms of most devout and humhle confessian, ardent brea;th-
ings after holiness, and adoring reverence of the divine perfec-
tions. Though the subsequent diary shows that those alterna-
tions of strength and weakness, joy and sorrow, were not whDlly
unknown to him, which are found in the experience of all em-
inent saints, yet this era was no douht a new starting point to
his soul in its religious race.

It is a characteristic fact that this diary, after having been
punctually kept for several m'Dnths, was discontinued. Tihe
ground assigned at its close was, that he began to suspect him-
self of coloring the statements of his feelings, from an involun-
tary reference to their being some day seen by others, and he
feared that thus his Christian sincerity might be corrupted!

Such holy diligence in prayer, such singleness of aim and
such watchfulness, could not fail of their reward. He seems
to have lived in the habitual exercise of religious joy; and often
his soul mounted up with wings like eagles. It is helieved that
from his conversion to the day of his death, no serious cloud
ever overshadowed his assurance. He lived continually under
the peaceful light of a sure hope! How fully was the truth
verified, in his Christian courage, consistency and intense ac-
tivity for God, "The joy of the Lord is your strength?"

His position as a pious student among two hundred and
fifty thoughtless young men, gave ample occasiion to illustrate
his Christian decision. But yet, this quality was so admirably

Memoirs of VRxttcts s. sampsoit, d. d. 401

tempered with modesty and kindness, that it secured, instead of
enmity, almost universal respect. His manner was quiet, sim-
ple, and unobtrusive. His religion was never thrust upon the
notice of any one; bnt when any assault was made upon his
principles, they were found immovable. He was oibliging to
all, even to the profane, wherever the sacrifice of conscience
was not asked for. So kindly and unpharisaic was his demeanor,
that many, then entirely irreligious, became warmly attached
to him, and his usual college name was "Neighbor Sampson."
Tet, so sincere was the respect for his principles, a thoughtless
and profane student was heard once to remark, "1 can't swear
before Neighbor Sampson"; adding that there was no other
Christian student in the University to whom he would pay the
tribute of such a self-restraint. It is doubted whether a single
taint, or one word disrespectful to his religion, was ever offered
him with malicious intent among all the hundreds of ungodly
young men by whom he was surrounded.

Let this be an effectual lesson to every young person, who
shall read the character of this man of God, never more to be
held in bondage by the fear of reproach or ridicule. An honest'.
Christian courage commands the involuntary homage of the
worst. It is weakness and inconsistency which provoke the
gibe and sneer. Dr. Sampson was not protected from them by
any of those brilliant popular talents which dazzle the imagina-
tion of young men; for his abilities were not then appreciated.
He was regarded as a plain and unpretending young man,
whose conduct was spotlessly cooisistent, and whose Christian
courage was unshakable. It was this which covered him, amidst
the most heaven-daring sinners, with a shield of affeotflonate
respect.

The next trait of his Christian character to be noted, was:
His strict conscientiousness. Never have we known a Christian
who seemed miore habitually to walk

"As ever in his great task-master's eye."

This conscientiousness was seen in the minutest pecuniary
transactions, and in the scrupulous care with which he used
the interests and property of the Seminary, and of those who
entrusted their concerns to him. That word of our Lord was
to him a living precept, "He that is faithful in that which is
least, is faithful alsa in much; and he that la unjust in the
least, is unjust also in much."

402 MEMOIRS OF FBAMOIS S. SAMPSON, D. D.

Instances of his scrupulousness might ibe mentioned, which
some might almost regard as showing a "morbid conscience."
We can only say — Would to God that all his people were in-
fected with the same disease. There was nothing morbid or
exaggerated in his Christian character. On the contrary, uni-
formity and good sense were its peculiar traits.

As instances of his conscientiousness, take the following :

We find him determining that he cannot lend his notes of
the professors' lectures (for he was a famous note taker) to fel-
low students who studied them on the Sabbath. Although, in
all other cases, unbounded in his kindness, where he had reason
to believe that they would be so abused, he inflexibly exacted
their return on Saturday. We find him, in every friendly letter,
zealous to communicate some spiritual gift; and on his return
from social visits, he frequently taxed himself with, unfaithful-
ness, because he had been satisfied with the innocence of his
social enjoyments, and had not enough watched for openings
to speak for Christ.

On a visit to his beloved Christian relatives in Albemarle,
he not only seeks to do good to his cousins, but seized an op-
portunity to "go into the kitchen at his grand-father's and talk
with old aunt Betty, the oook, about Christ, his righteousness
and atonement, our weakness and dependence on him,~ and the
gloriou.^ P"ospects of the Christian, and encourage her to con-
stant prjijer. She thanked me for my advice; and said she re-
joiced in the Lord, and prayed that the Lord would make me
hapi>y and useful. She said she was so glad that I had oome
and talked with her about Christ. How happy is it, to be with
a Christian, whether white or black! How good is my God,
who revealeth himself to the poor and the ignorant, that feel
their need of him! While I talked with this kindred spirit, my
own soul was quickened, and the tear of sympathy, dropped
down my cheek. The old woman cannot read. Lord bless her
soul, and give her grace, knowledge and true religion, with all
its comforts. Let thy blessing rest on all with whom I con-
versed about Christ."

A few lines further we read this :

"Was detained by rain longer than I intended. Unrle
Thornton lent me a horse to ride back. Conversed with the ser-
vant who came with me, about the danger of his immortal soul;

itBltOIBS OF FBAirOIS S. SAUPSOIT, D. D. 403

endeavored to make plain to him the way of salvation, and
showed him how reasonable it would be for G-od to cut him off
in his sins, before he could repent. Lord bless him with salva-
tion."

And this, reader, was not in the glow of a first love, nor in
a season of religious excitement. He had been a professed
Christian nearly three years. How many ministers of the gos-
pel may feel rebuke from these examples of evangelical zeal in
a young college student!

In a like diligent spirit we find him performing each daily
task, "as unto God and not man," regulating his diet with
solemn Christian self-denial, because he found himself some-
times indisposed, by partial excess, to prayer and meditation,
and exerting his influence for good over his comrades by every
means.

In his walks for recreation, he met with a plain but respec-
table countryman, seriously inclined, though not a believer; and
this casual acquaintance was improved, to set on foot a Sabbath
school in the mountains, and to seek the salvation of the far-
mer and his wife, by repeated visits, and careful instruction.

When he had fully dedicated himself to the ministry, and
to the foreign missionary work, which, he then supposed, was
to ibe his destination, he thrust aside obstacles to his great pur-
pose, with a heroic self-denial, which can never be known, un-
til the day which reveals the secrets of all hearts. In all the
domestic relations of his subsequent life, in the duties of fam-
ily devotions, in his funcH'ons as master and father, the inmate
of his household could clearly perceive that God was continual-
ly before his eyes. As an oflBcer of the Seminary he was ever
at his post, with conscientious diligence. No sickness, which!
was not extreme, could detain him from his class room; and the
first day of his last, fatal illness, he attempted to rise and at-
tend to his classes, and only desisted from his purpose when
literally overpowered by weakness.

The Christian reader will hardly need to be told, that such
a believer as is above portrayed, abounded in active exertions,
and the labors 'of love for Christ and perishing souls. To ap-
preciate the strength of this active principle in him, we must
remember the modesty, the almost shrinking difBdence of his
Christian character. A few instances of his zeal to do good

404 MEMOIRS OF FKANOIS 8. SAMPSON, D. D.

have already been mentioned. When he went to the Universitj
of Virginiji, there was no chaplain, nor religious observance of
any kind. Occasional public worship had been held perhaps,
by transient ministers of distinction; and the sound religious
sentiment which distinguishes the bulk of our people, was be-
g^ning to make itself felt among the governors of the institu-
tion; so that they were not unwilling to pay the tribute of some
outward religious observance tO' this pulblic opinion. Soon
after Dr. Sampsan went there, the Rev. Mr. Hamet, a Metho-
dist minister of great fluency, and popular rhetorical powers,
preached in Charlottesville; and the most thoughtless students
were fascinated with his abilities. Advantage was taken of
this, to introduce a permanent chaplain, and Mr. Hamet was the
first who filled that office. The chaplain is usually selected by
the faculty, with some conference with influential ministers of
his own denomination, and is supported wholly by a voluntary
subscription among the professors, students and other residents.
He is chosen alternately from one of the four leading denomina-
tions, Methodist, Baptist, Episcopal and Presbyterian; and
served at first one, but now two years. Dr. Sampson was very
active in supporting this new enterprise, and gave valuable aid
to Mr. Hamet, though his short stay in that office promised no
very valuable religious results; He was succeeded by men of
a more evangelical type; and to them all Dr. Sampson was a
right hand, during his stay at the University, whatever their
denomination. He was also the most active agent in originat-
ing'the first Sabbath school in the University, and was its su-
perintendent. We are assured by an eminent citizen, who was
then a child in one of the families connected with the institu-
tion, that he was taught in this Sabbath school by Dr. Sampson,
and there received his first saving impressions. The first pri-
vate prayer meeting among the pious students of the Univer-
sity was equally indebted to his agency for its maintenance.
It met every Sabbath evening; and we find In his short diary
frequent references to his enjoyment of Its Christian commun-
ion, and to his having addressed a word of exhortation to his
brethren there.

The following sentences, communicated by the Rev. Dr.
White, who was pastor of the Charlottesville church from the

MEMOIRS or FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 405

spring of 1836 to 1848, happily express the position which Dr.
Sampson then held there:

"My acquaintance with Dr. Sampson commenced in the
spring of 1836. He was then just closing his course at the
University of Virginia; and on the 4th of July of that year, he
took the degree of M. A. with great credit. The South Plains
church then embraced the Presbyterians living in the Univer-
sity and Charlottesville. There were not more than sixteen
members living at these places. On my arrival, he called on me,
and although very modest, yet convinced me in one short in-
terview, that he was a youth of no ordinary talents and piety.
He was then, I should suppose, about twenty years of age — be-
tween twenty-one and twenty-two. He entered with great in-
terest into conversation on the subject of religion; and had evi-
dently thought and prayed much for the prosperity of /ion.
He gave me more information respecting the condition of the
church, and both said and ^d more to cheer me in the work
I was about to undertake, than Einy one with whom I met. I
well remember the flrsit attempt I made to have evening service
in the dirty and dilapidated church. When I reached the house,
I found'it was neither lighted nor unlocked. As I stood in front
of the building with half a dozen others, none of whom seemed
to know what to do in this great emergency, Sampson came up,
accompanied by several of his fellow students from the Uni-
versity. I was on the point of abandoning the undertaking in
despair, when he, with his accustomed quickness and' energy,
said, 'Don't go yet — I'll see what can be done.' He hurried
away, and very soon returned with candles in one hand, and
the means of lighting them in the other — entered t'^e house by
raising one of the windows, and soon had the churcn opened,
lighted, and ready for service. I preached to just one dozen
hearers, and found no little help in doing so from the part he
had acted.

"Through his whole course at the University, he was as
much distinguished for his firmness as for his modesty, and as
eminent for his piety as for his scholarship and talents. My
impression is, that he established the first Sabbath school ever
taught, and the first prayer meeting ever held in the Univer-
sity. I am sure he took a very active part in both these depart-
ments of benevolent and Christian effort.

406 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS 8 SAMPSON, D. D.

"A few weeks before he graduated, the lamented Professor
Davis said bo me, with a very sad expressioH of countenance,
'We are about to lose Sampson; and a sad loss it will be to the
University. With a modesty and reserve seldom, if ever, equal-
ed, he combines a firmness of purpose, and an openness and en-
ergy in seeking to check evil and do good, which have made
him a great blessing to the whole institution. His influence over
all classes of persons is astonishing. Has your church no more
such young men to send to us? The University might well af-
ford to furnish any number of such with their board and tuition
gratis.'

"I have always believed that the course he pursued and
the influence he exerted contributed immensely to the great
change which, from that time, began to take place in the re-
ligious character of that institution. My connection with him
there ceased after some two or three months. In a pleasant
interview with him just before he left, he said to me, 'I must
preach the Gospel, or die in the attempt.' He left in the state
of mind indicated by this remark; and you know the rest."

We cannot refrain from adding the closing paragraphs of
Dr. White's remarks concerning him, though more confidential
in their tone, and not relating to the subject immediately before
us. His words give a touching and truthful picture of the im-
pression made by the lovely Christian simplicity and modesty
of his demeanor:

"He spent two or three days with me, and preached twice
for tne during the summer preceding his death. The impres-
sion ho made both upon my congregation and family, was of the
most salutary and pleasing kind. His meekness and gentleness,
his freedom from all ostentation and reserve, won the confi-
dence of the youngest member of my household. So much so,
that for weeks and months afterwards, his visit was frequently
mentioned at my fireside, as an event to be remembered witu
mingled emotions of pleasure and pain. With pleasure, because
we enjoyed the privilege of entertaining him; and with pain,
because we feared we should never enjoy this high privilege
again. When this fear was realized by the announcement of
his death, the deepest gloom passed over my family circle, and
tears were shed that we should see his face no more."

If every pious student and other young Christian were thus

MEMOIRS OF FEANCI8 S. BAMPSON, D. D. 407

diligent in doing good, how different would be the aspect of
our churches and colleges. What a new impression of the sol-
emn reality and urgency of the work of redemption would re-
place in the minds of their th'oughtless associates, that unreal
and dreamy idea which they now entertain!

At the Union Seminary, which Dr. Sampson joined the fall
after he left the University, his Christian activity was similar.
No man was farther than he from that misplaced zeal, wMch
aspires to do the work of an evangelist, while still a student,
at the expense of a student's proper duties. In preparation for
the class room, in punctual attention to the routine of his du-
ties, in accurate scholarship, he was among the foremost. But
to do good was one of the recreations of his leisure hours. Dur-
ing a season of religious interest, which visited the College in
the immediate neighborhood of the Seminary, he, with others,
labored much in a modest way; and some of the subjects of that
work, if ever they attain to that blessed world where we believe
he now is, will have occasion to acknowledge their debt to his
wisdom and love, to all eternity.

As soon as he was licensed to preach the Grospel, by the
Presbytery of East Hanover, he began to abound in ev^' ^Mca\
labors, which, to his death, were increasingly ace ule to
the churches. Besides the labors of his vacations, in iiii' <iative
county, and others at a distance from the Seminary, he preached
statedly at different times, in the College and Farmville church-
es, at Guinea in the county of Cumberland, Charlotte court-
house. Walker's, Forest and Appomattox churches in the coun-
ty of Prince Edward. Some of these labors were wholly gratui-
tous. For a considerable period, his stated labors not being
more urgently needed in any of the churches of convenient ac-
cess, he preached regularly to a congregation of colored people,
for no other reward than the pleasure of doing good.

Another marked trait of his Christian character was the
uniformity and healthfulness of his devotional spirit. While
his private habits in this matter were covered with a sacred
veil, which none dared to attempt to lift — drawn alike by the
reverence and the modesty of his spirit — his profiting was so
outwardly evident to all, that no one could doubt his diligence
in the closet. While his brief diary laments occasional spiritual
declensions, there is reason to believe that he never knew what

408 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS 8. SAMPSON, D. D.

it was to lose the assurance of hope; and that the flame of devo-
tion burned in him with a glow unusually steady. In public,
his prayers were eminently edifying to believers, marked by
scriptural tone, humble sincerity, appropriateness and compre-
hensiveness. But to know the sweetness of his spirit of prayer
fully, one must have enjoyed the privilege of being an inmate
of his house and frequenting his domestic altar. Family pray-
ers were, in his house, no hurried, unmeaning form. The whole
air and tone of the exercise showed deep sincerity and earnest-
ness. After a daily catechising of children and servants, the
reading of the Word of God, and a hymn of praise, he bowed
his knees with a composed awe and seriousness, which seemed
to communicate itself to all the circle. What deep sincerity,
what discrimination and justice, what point, what fullness,
what grave tenderness characterized those prayers, as he
brought before the throne of grace his household — his children,
his servants, his relatives, his brethren in Christ, the Seminary,
the church, and the whole interests of a perishing world! To
those, who were so happy as to be often present, it was not diflfi-
cult to believe that these services would leave their calm and
holy savor upon the spirit, throughout all the toils and cares of
the day, like "the dew upon Heron, and as the dews that de-
scended upon the mountains of Zion."

His religious principles were strikingly illustrated also, by
the manner in which he felt the call to the ministry.

As has been already indicated, his definite purpose was
fixed, in this matter, during his residence at the University. It
was formed in the face of the strongest influences and the most
brilliant allurements to more worldly and ambitious pursuits.
H.i has left on record the great benefit which he received in this
respect, as well as in others, from the Biography of James
Brainerd Taylor, edited by Dr. John H. Rice. The principles
illustrated in the life of that devoted young Christian had a
powerful influence in fixing his resolution to consecrate him-
self to the work of preaching the Gospel. But this purpose be-
gan to dawn in his soul from the very beginning of his Chris-
tian life. On one occasion the writer asked him, what were the
time and means for bringing the claims of the ministry home to
his conscience. He answered, "There never was a time, in my
Christian life, when I did not feel the claims of the ministry."

MEMOIRS OF FBAN0I8 8. SAMPSON, D. D. 409

In reply to the question, how this was, he continued, "Isimply
reasoned thus: I had given myself wholly up to Gfod, to be
used for his highest glory, and if he needed me most in the work
of the ministry, as seemed every way prDbable, as a thing of
course I was bound to be a minister."

His settled purpose, during a large part of his University
and Seminary CDUPse, was, to prepare himself thoroughly for
the work of a translator in some important foreign mission. He
was led to this purpose by his success and accuracy as a lin-
guist, and his humble estimate of Ms own talents, and his ca-
pacities for public speaking. He seems to have thought that
he was deficient in all those more brilliant gifts, which secure
success in the pulpit; that his only talent was a patience, dili-
gence and accuracy, which would make him a correct scholar,
and that this humble talent he could best use for his master's
glory, jn the unobtrusive drudgery of rendering God's Word
into the tongue of some Pagan people. With this object, he
devoted himself most diligently to languages, drilled and cul-
tivated his mind as thoroughly as possible in his preparatory
course, and, in the Seminary, mastered as thoroughly as possi-
ble the" languages of the Scriptures. But his master thought
not so. When his Seminary course was but two-thirds done,
he called him, by his Providence and the voice of his church,
to a responsible work at home; and speedily rewarded his hum-
ble fidelity, by giving him fame and influence in the pulpit, of
which he had judged himself unworthy.

Now, here is a lesson for those young Christians, who make
a lack of special capacity for speaking or of similar qualifica-
tions, their pretext for declining the claims of the ministry. This
servant of God had a sincere distrust of his own capacities; but
with a heart consecrated with equal sincerity to his Saviour's
service, he humbly offered himself to the work, to do what he
could, believing that God would accept him according to that
which he had, and not according to that which he had not. Yea,
anil he was accepted; and not only used his scholastic accuracy
fo.- the service of Grod in a high and honorable isphere, but be-
came one of the" most admired and impressive preachers of the
land.

Young Christian, if thy self-distrust is genuine, go thou
and do likewise. But if it is feigned, remember that "all things

410 MEMOIRS OF FRAUCIS 8. SAMPSON, D. D

are naked and opened unto the eyes of him with whom we
have to do."

Our portraiture would be recognized by all the friends of
Dr. Sampson as incomplete, if we omitted those which- were,
to all, his most obvious traits: modesty and disinterestedness.
One of his most faithful friends was accustomed to say of him,
"If Brother Sampson has a fault, it is that he is too modest."
This virtue was impressed upon his social demeanor, upon all
his acts of c3nscientious decision, and upon hie deportment in
all the courts of the church. There, he was usually a respectful
listener, and a rare and brief speaker. When his sense of the
importance of a measure called him out, his remarks were
direct, lucid and weighty, and offered with an air which showed
that he shrunk from occupying the time and attention of the
body longer than was unavoidable. Self-display and self-seek-
ing were ideas which none that knew him associated with his
name. Always estimating his own talents and knowledge be-
low their real worth, he rather shrank from promotion than
sought it. He waited for the call of his brethren and Provi-
dence; and it is believed that there never existed a case, in
which he consented to lift a fingeri directly or indirectly, to
promote his own advancement, even by honorable means. Be-
fore he became a student of divinity, he refused very flattering
offers of literary employment, not inconsistent with clerical du-
ties. And after he engaged in the service of the Seminary, and
received the assurances of his brethren that they judged his
labors essential to the cause of Grod in that institution, no in-
conveniences in his post, and no advantages offered from with-
out, weighed a feather towards leaving it. During this time,
several offers of employment, such as professorships, more lu-
crative, and not unworthy of a Christian minister, were made
to him. His answer always was, that God seemed to have work
for him to do where he was; and as long as this was so, he had
no right to leave it for any increase of his personal comforts or
emoluments. Meantime, those emoluments were so stinted for
many years, in consequence of the financial embarrassments of
the Seminary, as scarcely to afford the means of comfortable
subsistence. Up to his formal election to the professorship in
which he died, while he performed the full duties of a professor
in fact, and was acknowledged by all to be second to no one in

MEMOIRS OF FEANOIS 8. SAMPSOX, D. D. 411

the value of his labors, he received less than two-thirds of the
emoluments belonging to the oflBce of a professor in this insti-
tution. This continued for ten years — ^years of activity, and
growing reputation and usefulness — second to none of the years
of his life. When he left his post temporarily, to improve his
knowledge and health in Europe, the directors of the Seminary
continued to him this inadequate salary during his absence —
feeling that his tour was, in fact, in the service of the Sem-
inary, and that this was no more than a just reparation for the
unavoidable scantiness of his previous compensation. BtuI:
even this he declined to retain, and refunded it to the Seminary
after his return, in annual installments. So that the last year
of his life may be said to be the only one in which he received
the full salary which he had all along deserved. Yet in re-
funding this sum, he considered himself as repaying a debt, and
not conferring a gift.

A very few years before his death he came into possession
of a part of his ample patrimony, and then his benefactions in-
creased with his ability. His donations to the Seminary and to
other institutions of public interest, were bestowed with a
generous hand.

His conscientiousness in the use of wealth, might well be
imitated by many other Christians. Whether his circumstances
were scanty or affluent, he was simple. in his tastes, unostenta-
tious in his person, and economical from principle, In accord-
ance with the general system of all his habits, he kept an exact
account of all expenditures — a thing which is, indeed, a neces-
sary foundation for the proper practice both of Christian lib-
erality and Christian economy. He was economical only in or-
der to have the means to be liberal. His Christian hospitality
was overflowing; and it was truly the hospitality of a Chris-
tian minister, designed not for its own display, but for the be-
stowal of comfort on others. To every good cause he gave, al-
ways with the heart, and when his means (became ample, with
the hand of a prince. It was one of the secrets which his Chris-
tian modesty never revealed, that he kept a strict account be-
tween himself and God, in which all sources of income were
stated with scrupulous exactness, and a fixed and liberal por-
tion of the sum was set apart to almsgiving; and this, account
was balanced with as much regularity as his bank book. Mean-

412 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D

time, he was not without the pretext, which many professors of
religion find for stinting their liberality, in the claims of a grow-
ing family.

CHAPTER III.

Dr. Sampson as a Student. Wise and Resolute Plan. Thoroughness.
Intense Application.. His Scholarship— Its Range and Accuracy.

The third general topic proposed to the reader, will be the
habits of study and scholarship of Br. Sampson. A brief state-
ment of his methodical and thorough system of study has al-
ready been made. It may perhaps be said with truth, that the
only peculiar indication of talent, which the beginning of his
scholastic life gave, was the wise and resolute plan of study
which he set before himself, and pursued from the first, with
all the determination of his character. For surely, such wise
determination is a talent — it is a trait of mental and moral
greatness — and one rare and invaluable in a stripling of six-
teen. He seems to have begun his collegiate course with a
fixed reference to the greatest ultimate benefit. While he was
a most punctual and laborious student, exact in all collegiate
duties, allowing himself, for years, only six hours in bed, and
but a scanty season for recreation, he did not fall into the
temptation which overthrows so many at the University of Vir-
ginia. This is the ambition to run rapidly over the course, by
an extraordinary and spasmodic exertion, and thereby to excite
admiration, and to pass speedily into the duties of active life.
Dr. Sampson's course, on the contrary, was long and deliberate,
covering five years. Many distinguished citizens, who were his
fellow students, state that he was at first only known as "an
excellent student," of good sense and accurate habits; Dut that
with every session, the appreciation of his abilities and learning
increased. He seems to have practiced, from the first, the wis-
dom so rare in youth, of leaving nothing behind unmastered, of
never weakening the accuracy of his faculties and perceptions
by half prepared tasks, and half understood views. His schol-
arship was matured and digested, as he progressed. And this
character was found eminently in all his subsequent acquisi-

MEMOIRS OF FRANOlS S. SAMPSON, ». ». 413

tions. It has been said that, as a Seminary student, he showed
eq'ual diligence and method. As a professor, his diligence was
great, and his toil in study excessive, until increasing infirmi-
ties compelled him to relax his labors. It is well remembered
by some of his pupils, that once, when taking a class over the
Epistle to the Hebrews, which he had gone over more than once
before, he spent, on an average, thirty hours of active study on
each lesson, in additional preparation. But alas! here the in-
tensity of his zeal reached its crisis. This was the last year of
his firm, unbroken health; and henceforth, "while the spirit was
willing, the flesh was weak."

If all our young ministry was inspired with such zeal, how
glorious would be the result? Perhaps the number might be
increased by those who, like our lamented 'brother, would have
to say of themselves, "The zeal of thy house hath consumed
me," and whose premature loss the church would bemoan just
as their harvest of usefulness was beginning. But would not
this spirit endue the ministry of reconciliation with an influ-
ence, a weight, a might, a glory, which would be cheaply pur-
chased, even at so precious a eost? A costly price hath our
Zion paid for this example, which she now offers to her young
ministers, to teach them what is the diligence they should exer-
cise! May God forbid that it should be lost on them. Happy is
that man who falls at the high noon of his career, and on the
spring tide of his success, at his post of duty; but happier is he-
who can so temper a burning activity with a holy prudence, and
so avoid both a corroding sluggishness and a rash over exer-
tion, as to rise brightly to the meridian of his powers, and then
decline gently towards their- serene evening, and thus to bless
the church both with his earlier strength and his riper ex-
perience.

By suoh system and diligence, Dr. Sampson became one of
the best educated men of our country. In all the departments
of letters he was able, above the average. His knowledge of
systematic theology, was profound and extensive. Of church
history he retained a knowledge far superior to that which most
young ministers bring to their ordination, although his depart-
ment called him away from these studies; and he was accus-
tomed to complain that his memory was treacherous with re-
gard to those of its stores which he had no opportunity to re-

414 iiEiioiBS 0* FftANois s. sampson, d. d.

view. His mastery of Latin and Greek, and of most of the xy-
lite langnages of modem Europe, would have ahundantly quali-
fied him for the highest posts of instruction in America. T<y
say that it was such as hecomes a well educated minister, would
be utterly inadequate to the truth. But his ripest acquirements
were in the Hehrew literature and the exposition of the Scrip-
ture. Here, as is well known, he was pre-eminent for thDrough-
ness, accuracy and philosophical arrangement. While there
may he many who possess an equal familiarity with these de-
partments of learning, it may be safely asserted that, as a JeacA-
tr of Hehrew, there was not his superior on our continent.

CHAPTER IV.

Characteristics as a Teacher. Tact. Vivacity. Earnestness. Patience
Intercourse with Pupils. Hebrew Prelections.
This naturally suggests another subject of remark — his
character as an instructor. In his practical skill as a teacher,
was his peculiar value to the church of our day; for as a mas-
ter of the art of communicating knowledge, he was, in our view,
unrivaled. It was not that his lectures presented those grand
sayings which electrify for the moment, nor that any one of
his efforts produced on the pupil an impress of pre-eminent tal-
ent — hut there was just the combination of that justness of
mind, steady animation, thorough knowledge, patience and
tact, which gave the highest skill in teaching, both as iT: is a
trade and as it is a science. He was equal to its profoundest
researches. He shunned none of its most irksome drudgeries.
One of the foundation stones of his success was his own indis-
putahle scholarship. No man ever passed through one of his
classes without a profound and admiring conviction of this.
Another was in his unfailing animation and vivacity of mind,
which was so keen, even on suhjects usually esteemed dry, as
to seem unaccountable to many. The exertion of voice and
body which he unconsciously employed, when thoroughly
warmed to his work, was often the subject of playful remark
between him and his colleagues. This animation communicat-
ed itself to his pupils — so that usually their highest diligence
was exerted in his department, though it was one not most at-

Memoirs oi" j'RanoIs 8. SAMPSOif, D. t>. 415

tractive to all minds. But to this result another quality, which
is invaluable to the teacher, also contributed. This was the
energy of his own will, which pressed on towards the objects
of his exertion with an impetus which swept all along with it,
and communicated its own life to the most sluggish. In every
act of his in the class room, there was expressed the idea of
work; and all who frequented it soon felt instinctively that it
was not the place for loitering. It might be said that his
watchword was thoroughness. With an admirable patience, he
expounded his subject so as to make it luminous to the weak-
est eye; and if his questions revealed the fact that there was
still some one who did not fully comprehend, he would resume
his explanation, and repeat in varied forms, till his ideas were
thoroughly mastered. Out of this habit, and the propensity of
his mind to thorough work, probably grew that which might
have been considered his prominent fault as an instructor. His
explanations sometimes degenerated into excessive amplifica-
tion, which became wearisome to those who had given him a
moderate degree of attention from the beginning; and he thus
unduly protracted his prelections.

His intercourse with his pupils was marked by a happy
union of modest dignity, which repelled improper encroach-
ments, and cordial, ingenuous kindness, which conciliated con-
fidence. In his presence, each one felt that there was a sim-
plicity and candor which set the stamp of reality on every kind
attention. It is believed that there is not one of his pupils who
did not feel for him not only respect, but warm affection; aSid
many can join in the sad words of one who remarked, when
speaking of his death, "Well, I never expect to meet with an-
other minister of the Grospel, whom I shall love and revere as
I did that man." Often it was a subject of wonder to his col-
leagues, how so much affection could be retained from those
towards whom he exercised so much fidelity in admonishing.

The distinctive traits of his expository instructions may
perhaps be described as justice of thought, neatness, and im-
partiality of mind. He believed the plenary inspiration of the
Scriptures. His soul loved their spiritual truths; and often
in the lecture room he soared away from the dry dissection of
words and propositions, into regions of devout meditation, and
made his class forget for the time the exercises of the head, in
the nobler exercises of the heart.

416 MEMOISS or FRANCIS S. SaMPSON, D. D.

It was in his Hebrew prelections that his mental excel
lence shone most distinctly. He had applied the broadest prin-
ciples of etymology to the elem€nts of this language, in a man-
ner original and philosophical; and had thus reduced them to
an Drder which, so far as we know, is not equaled by any pub-
lished grammar. His lectures unfolded the Hebrew etymology
with a lucid order, beauty and simplicity, which could not fail
to delight every intelligent learner. Indeed, if we may be per-
mitted to introduce our own judgment, after frequenting the
halls of three separate institutions of learning, and sitting under
some of the most gifted and learned men whD have appeared on
this side of the Atlantic, Dr. Sampson's lectures on the Hebrew
language, and some other departments, seem to us the most
philosophical, the most complete, the best teaching to which we
ever listened. None who attended his prelectiDns on the canon
of Scripture (of which there remains a brief specimen in his
"University Lecture") will forget the masterly nature of the ar-
gument there constructed. It is one not servilely copied or com-
piled from previous writers, but constructed on his own plan.
He has there built, upDn a foundation of adamant, a structure
whose ribs of steel are knit together with the strength of mathe-
matical demonstration. No part is wanting, and every part is
in its exact place. It stands totue teres et rotundus, impen-
etrable everywhere to refutation.

Alas! that there remain no permanent records of most of
these invaluable instructions, except in the scanty and scat-
tered notes of his papils. In his later years. Dr. Sampson re-
gretted often that he had not found time to fix upon paper more
of his course of instruction. But such was his unambitious and
self-sacrificing spirit, that he always yielded tD the urgent de-
majids of the present, and preferred the thorough performance
of his duties to his classes, to the gathering of those fruits of
his researches, which would have promoted the fame of his au-
thorship. He said, that if he became an author, he must be a
less diligent teacher. There was not time to be, thoroughly,
both at once. And he preferred rather to leave his record writ-
ten on the minds and hearts of the rising ministry of our Syn-
ods, where it might be fruitful in the enlightening of souls, than
in volumes which would hand down his name to future ages.
But besides this, he was cut down just when the fruits of his

MSHOIBS OF fBAKclB S. BAMP60K, S. S. 417

arduous studies were coming to their rich maturity. Had he
lived to old age, he might have gathered some of them into
books, for the benefit of a wider and more remote circle.

CHAPTER V.

Dr. Sampson as a Preacher. Simplicity of Style. Logical Arrange-
ment. Elevation of Thought. Steadily advancing Reputation. Les-
son of Encouragement to young Divines.

The reader will almost be able to surmise, fram what has
now been said, the character of his preaching. It exhibited al-
ways the lucid order, and the animation of mind which marked
everything which, he produced. His best sermons rose to a
grade of excellence which is seldom displayed in any part of
the church. And it was an excellence which was most appre-
ciated by the most cultivated and mature minds. Whilst there
were other preachers, who would be more sought after by the
masses, he was preferred by the men of thought and acquire-
ment. His plans of discussion were marked by a just and com-
prehensive view, which showed both the profound theologian,
and the ripe biblical scholar, who had drunk deep into the spirit
of the Word 3f G-od. His propositions were usually stated with
singular accuracy and beauty of language; but it was a beauty
rather logical than theoretical, rather chaste than florid. In
deed, his whole method of discussion wore an appearance of
directness, too severe to admit of any license of amament. Yet,
in the judgment of all those who are capable of appreciating a
felicitous purity and aptness of language, and thoughts of vig-
orous symmetry, many passages in his sermons rose to the high-
est grade of eloquence, coupled as they were with his genuine
fervor and fire. His preaching was rich in matter, and emin-
ently scriptural, such as is 'best fitted to feed the spiritual mind.
It was always remarkable for its elegance and elevation, which
were never tarnished by anything coarse in allusion, ludicrous
in association, or bungling in structure. But it was, the 'least
of all men's, a finical elegance. It was rather that of an ener-
getic and lofty simplicity. That men of strictly scholastic
training and pursuits should excel in the particular work of

4l8 MEMOIRS O* fEANOlS 8. SAllPSOlT, t>. 1).

iLl' pulpit, is ratlier tlie exception; bnt he was certainly one of
the most brilliant of these exceptions. By the intelligent public
his preaching was even as highly esteemed as his professional
labors were by intelligent students.

This fact is dwelt on, because it contains most instructive
encouragement to all beginners in the pulpit work. When Dr.
Sampson first began to preach, he was far from being an easy
or impressive speaker. His first attempts had little to com-
mend them, except that excellence of composition which was
the unavoidable result of his thorough training and good mind.
He labored under a constraint and embarrassment, painful to
himiaelf and his hearers. His voice was not modulated, and his
gesture was scant and unformed. But every effort showed im-
provement; and a few years of diligent exertion placed him in
the front rank of impressive, pungent and fervent pulpit ora-
tors. His voice became resonant and musical; his action digni-
fied and energetic.

Such an example should effectually remove the discourage-
ments of those who suppose they are deficient in pulpit gifts;
and it should teach all to feel their responsibility to set up for
themselves a high standard of excellence, and to be satistf^fl
with no dull mediocrity in sacred oratory. Provided they have
good sense and diligence, let them not persuade themselves
that the road is closed up to them, which leads to the higher
grades of excellence in this art. The things by which Dr. Samp-
son was enabled so thoroughly to overcome his original de-
fects, were undoubtedly these: First, there was his superior
scholarship, which gave him mental furniture, and supplied
the best material upon which to build a style. Had he not
been a superior scholar, had his mind not been thoroughly
drilled and invigorated by its inner training, his early manner
would never have been improved into one so eminently good.
Next, should be mentioned the modesty, humility and ingen-
uousness of his Christian character. He learned to preach
well, because he aimed to preach not himself, but Jesus Christ.
Those words of our Saviour proved strictly true, in their ap-
plication to his understanding of the art of expressing reli-
gious truth: "If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be
full of light." His eye was single. His prevailing purpose was
to show forth the way of life : and his taste was not perverted.

MBMOIfiS OJ jRAlfClS S. SAMP&OIT, t>. t>. 41^

nor has manner poisoned, by the itchings of 03nceit, or the am-
bition for display. Andi, in the third place, he was diligent.
Not only did he preach much, "in season and out of season,"
but he preached with careful and laborious preparation. And
where there is a natural substratum of good sense, unfettered
by any physical defect, these means will usually be sufficient
t3 overcome any amount of incipient difficulties or failures, and
to make any man, if not an orator of the first rank, an impres-
sive and pleasing speaker.

OHAPTEE VI.

Intellectual Traits. Genius and Talent. Symmetry. Analytic Faculty.
Imagiuatiou. Memory. Candid Estimate of his Powors.

It is in the life and acts of a man that the faculties and
traits of his mind make themselves known to others. Conse-
quently, the preceding exhibition of Dr. Sampson's character
as a scholar, teacher and preacher, is also a portraiture, in some
sense,' of his intellect. No more is necessary, therefore, than
to sum up the whole with a few general remarks. Dr. Sampson
could not be called a genius. He was what is far better — a
man of high talent. His mind presented nothing that was sa-
lient or astonishing. But this was not so much because there
was not power, as because it was power symmetrically develop-
ed. -His was just one of those excellent minds, which grow
most, and longest, by good cultivation. In wide and adven-
turous range, his speculative powers were not equal to those
of some other men; but in power of C3rrect analysis, in sound-
ness of judgment and logical perspicacity, he was superior to
all we have ever known, except a very few. Indeed, when a
speculative subject was fully spread out before his mind for
consideration, his conclusions seemed to be guided by a pene-
trati3n and justness of thought almost infallible. This con-
sideration was deliberate; and his decision was very rarely ex-
pressed with haste, or even with promptitude. Hence his writ-
ings and conversation never exhibited any of that paradox, or
that bold novelty and dangerous originality, which are too of-
ten mistaken for greatness. His talents, if they had less to

420 MEMOIRS Oi iBATSdlS S SAMPSON, b. D,

awaken an empty aatondshment and admiration, were far safef,
more reliable and more useful. It was hard for anything so-
phistical or unsatisfactory to escape detection under his steady
gaze. He was particularly free from that common fault of
many minds of large grasp : the adopting of major propositions
so large that they will contain the conclusion which the reason-
er desires to derive from them; but at the same time so shadowy
that they contain he knows not how much more.

In his powers of arrangement, he was undoubtedly super-
ior to any man we have ever known. In his mind, the elements
of thought seemed to group themselves always, and spontan-
eously, into the most philosophical order possible, with a regu-
larity like that of the atoms of limpid water, when they crystal-
lize into transparent ace.

The efforts of Dr. Sampson's imagination were rather of
that kind which Mr. Macaulay describes in Sir James Macin-
tosh. They consisted not so much in the original grouping of
elements into new, but lifelike forms, as in selecting appi-Or
priate forms already shaped out, from the stores of a well fur-
nished memory. In those severer exercises of the imagina-
tion, which are required in mathematical thought and in the
bodying forth of scientific conceptions, this faculty was em^
inently distinct and vigorous. But in its more poetic exercises
it was limited. His power of calling up that species of illus-
tration which is flowing and graceful, was scanty; and while
the operations of his faculties, especially in lecturing and
j.recfcjing, were unusually fervent, it was rather, so far as it
was not sipiritual, the dry heat, if we may so term it, of intel-
lectual animation, than the glow of genial fancies. And yet,
there were a few occasions on which he showed a high measure
of the graphic or pictorial power; which might indicate that
this faculty was rather disused by him than lacking in him.
Another of his mental peculiarities has been already hinted: his
almost impracticable honesty. He could never be induced to
accept a proposition unless it wholly commended itself to his
mind as true. His memory was most retentive, for all thingte
which were arranged in it by any logical association; but for
things sole, or merely verbal, it was sometimes treacherous.

Upon the whole, cons.idering the admirable justness and
perspicacity of his mind, its vigor and accuracy in analysis, its

MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 421

wonderful capacity for phdlosophical aprangement, and the en-
ergy of its purposes, he might have been truthfully called a
man of great powers. The symmetry of those powers, his mod-
esty in their display, the very accuracy of thought which re-
pressed all those paradoxical brilliancies that catch the ad-
miration of the crowd, forbid that he shpuld be promptly ap-
preciated. Hence his proper grade will probably only be as-
signed him by those who, like the writer, had opportunities to
contemplate his mental powers deliberately. But it is his de-
liberate judgment — a judgment formed maturely, in advance
of that warm personal attachment which he will ever esteem
one of the chief blessings and honors of his life, that Dr. Samp-
son, for his particular work, possessed capacities unsurpassed
by any man which our country has produced, and equaled by
very few. Happy would it have been for our churches if they
had fully known his worth.

CHAPTER VII.

Failure of Health. Fluctuations of Disease. Flattering Hopes. In-
creased Diligence. Dr. Sampson's last Sermon. Final Attack. Con-
cern of the whole Community. Prayer in Presbytery. Dying Exer-
cises.

In the early spring of 1846, Dr. Sampson's ill health began
with a terrible pleurisy; which was immediately provoked by
fatigue and exposure in preaching the Gospel, but doubtless
owed its more remote origin to the prostration of vital energy,
produced by the intense application we have described above.
After imminently threatening his life, this disease was sub-
dued, but it did not leave him with a sound constitution. He
seemed to be nearly re-established: and especially, on his re-
turn from Europe, his appearance of health and vivacity al-
layed all the fears of his friends. But not long after, he ex
perienced another irreparable shock, in a severe nervous fever
which overtook him on a journey. This left him with a nervous
system and liver painfully deranged, and some threatening in-
dications of pulmonary disease. Prom this time forth, he sel-
dom knew what it was to enjoy comfortable strength. His most

422 MEMOIKS OF FRANCIS 8. SAMPSON, D. D.

distressing symptoms were a feverish exeitability of pulse,
sleeplessness, and occasional attacks of biliary derangement,
which prostrated his muscular system for the time. But dur-
ing Ms last session, his health, cheerfulness and hopefulness
seemed to revive; and there was again a flattering promise of
re established strength and a long life. The returning prosper-
ity of the beloved Seminary, the renewed and substantial ae-
.surances of interest and affection on the part of the churches
and ministry, and the steps taken towards filling the vacancies
in its faculty and dividing his responsibilities, seemed to be
cordials bo his mind and body. His enjoyment of the innoceni
blessings of life and its domestic affections, was intense, anfl
his hold upon it was strong.

During this flattering season, he seemed to be conscien-
tiously husbanding his strength, and employing all the means
for preserving health. Once or twice he referred to the repeat-
ed and grievous blows, which a mysterious Providence had in-
flicted on the Seminary in the death of its most useful ser-
vants, and pleasantly said to his colleagues, "It is our duty to
live just as long as we can, in order that the institution may
liiive time t3 root itself." But alas! another bdast was nearer
than any of us feared, which shook its still unsettled strength,
nor less grievously than any which has burst upon it, since that
which smote down its great founder in the flower <yt his strength
and success. Nor did Dr. Sampson seem to be wdthout antici-
pations of its approach. While he said uDthing directly, and
seemed rather t3 avoid any allusions to the previous symptoms,
threatening his health, as a painful subject, yet the thought
seemed to be ever treading close after his eager footsteps, and
spurring him to greater diligence, "The night cometh, when no
man can work." More than once, when others expostulated
with him for taxing himself beyond his strength, either by the
fervency of his preaching, or the vigor with which he pushed
thrDugh his Seminary duties, he answered, "Perhaps I have
but a few days or weeks more in which to do my task. I must
work the works of him that sent me, while it is day."

And even so, the summons came, to him not unawares,
but to us "like a thunderbolt from a cloudless sky." Sunday,
the second of April, the venerable pastor being absent, he
preached in the C3llege church, from Prov. xi, 18. "The wicked

MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 423

worketh a deceitful work; but to him that soweth righteous-
ness, shall be a sure reward." In this sermon he urged the con-
trast between the delusiveness of the objects pursued by the
unbeliever, and the glorious sufficiency and certainty of the be-
liever's reward, with a power of thought, an energy of man-
ner, and a fervor of affection, which could not have been sur-
passed, if he had foreseen that this was his last message to his
fellow men, and had poured the whole soul of a dying man into
this final appeal. As we left the church that day, we felt that
in this discourse his powers as a preacher of the gospel cul-
minated. Prom that meridian height and splendor he fell —
nay, rather, he rose; for the next I>ord's day his soul (doubtless)
ascended to those heavenly courts,

"Where congregations ne'er break up.
And Sabbaths have no end."

After attending with zest upon all the religious services of
the day, he retired to rest, apparently in his usual health —
his last act having been to minister to the comfort of a sick
servant. Before the next morning he was violently seized with
what seemed at first to be one of the customary bilious at-
tacks; but it proved a fatal and insidious pneumonia. Per-
haps it was the more fatal, because he was providentially de-
prived of the assistance of his faithful family physician for
nearly twenty-four hours after his first attack. When he first
secured medical aid, his symptoms were most ominous; and
after one or two delusive promises of relaxation, the disease
finished its deadly work on Sabbath, April the 9th. His sihat-
tered frame had not the springs of an effectual resistance, and
succumbed soon before a malady which is terrible even to the
strongest.

The Wednesday after he was seized. West Hanover Pres-
bytery convened at Brown'^ church, Cumberland, about fifteen
miles from the Seminary. Perhaps the last business act which
Dr. Sampson performed was one eminently characteristic of
his punctuality. It was to send, by one of his colleagues, his
excuse for absence from Presbytery, and a business paper of
some importance to a third person, which he directed, with a
special charge, to be placed without fail in the hands 'of the
moderator. When the Presibytery learned his threatening con-
dition, it proceeded at once to set apart a season at special in-

424 MEMOIRS OF FKANCIS 8 SAMPSON, D D.

tercession on his hehalf. Highly as he had been appreciated by
bis hretUren before, when they began to look in the face the
consequences 'of his loss, they seemed to awaken to a new sense
of his value to the Seminary and the church. On Friday, and
again on Saturday, when persons were recognized approach-
ing the church, who were kn'Dwn to oome direct from him, the
house was almost deserted hy the members, who came out, by
an irrepressible impulse, to learn his state. Friday, when it
was reported that there was a faint promise of amendment, it
was agreed that the Presbytery should again unite in a season-
of intercession on his hehalf; and prayer was offered, by the
revered pastor of the College church, with a faith, tenderness,
fervency and devout submission, which will never he forgotten
to the dying day of those who heard it. Oould such a prayer
fail to entej" into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth? DioubHess
it was heard and accepted; accepted even as that more hitter
cry of our divine Exemplar was accepted: "Father, if it he
possible, let this cup pass from me ; nevertheless, not my will,
but thine, be done." "It is en'3'Ugh for the disciple to he as his
Master." In all the congregations which received the new«
of our brother's danger, prayer was also made of the church
unto God for him. The anxiety of the whole community con-
cerning him revealed that he had a hold upon their respect
and affections, which would not have been expected, if we re-
membered that his pursuits had been chiefly those of the study,
ar.d that he was rather among the people than of them. Per-
sons going from the Seminary were everywhere stopped in the
road by enquirers after his condition, in which there was a
deep concern and tenderness, which came from the heart.

His religious exercises were just those of which his Chris-
tian life gave promise — without fear, for he had long lived in
the assurance of hope; and without transport, for a disease so
violent and prostrating left no animal spirits for such feel-
ings, foreign as they were at all times, to his religious habits.
Early in his sickness, but after his disease had manifested it-
self as a dangerous one, he remarked to one of his nurses, "I
find n'ow, what I have always felt, that a sick bed is no place
to prepare for eternity. But I have not that to do. I long ago
made my peace with Gtod. The God I have feebly preached
to others is my support."

MEMOIRS OV FBANOtS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 425

His disease, attacking as it did the lungs, made talk^^ng
botli painful and injurious; and he and' all about him were
strongly inhibited by the physicians to converse much. Hie
yielded an implicit 'abedience, remarking several tim^s, "My
life belongs not to myself, but to the church, the Seminary, my
family, and to society; and it is my duty now not to consult-
my own inclinations, but conscientiously to observe the means
of preserving life, as long as there is any hape." Indeed, he
seemed to study calmness of emotions, and even to avert his
mind from those objects which would excite the more near
domestic affections, which were, to one blessed as he was, so
tender, and in the prospect '9f their interruption, so harrow-
ing. Thus he observed the means of life with the same com-
posed, conscientious principle with which he had usually ad-
dressed himself to any other duty.

During the later and more decisive assaults of his disease,
reason at times wavered on her seat. In his lucid moments he
complained that his mind was filled with a teeming multitude
of thoughts, new, varied, strange — some <ot them perplexed
and troublous, some luminous and interesting. May it not be
that this was the strife between the bedimming, enervating do-
minion of the flesh on the one hand, and the dawnings of that
nobler life t9 which the spirit rises when it bursts from the
mortal roil, on the other; and as the doubtful tide of camba't
rolled to and fro, the shadows of earth-born dimness and con-
fusion were alternating with gleams of Heaven's own light
over his soul?

In these seasions the influence of his predominant tastes
and pursuits was strongly visible. His mind was busy with
the Word 'af God, expounding, or investigating its treasures in
the original tongues.

Three days before his death he said, "It seems to me that
all the difficult passages of Scripture I have ever investigated
are present to my eye now, in Greek, Hebrew, or Ohaldee, and
all clamoring for settlement. But I tell them all. Go away, I
am sick, and cannot attend to you." The last of these seasons
of wandering was the m'9rning of the Lord's day on which he
died. During this he said to one of his nurses, "See that wall —
it is all written over with Scripture promises; and they are in
letters so large that I can read them every one," It was an-

426 UEUOIBS OF FBAN0I8 8. SAMPSON, D. D.

swered, "Oh no, there is nothing there, except the plastering."
But he persisted, "Yes — they are there — cannot I see them?
Lay your head here, heside mine, and then you will see them
plain." She wisihing to heguile him into more composure said,
"Oh, don't think of these thingsi — shut your eyes, and try to be
quiet." "Why," replied he, "may I not read them? I know it
is the Sabbath; hut they are all Sunday reading — they are all
from the Scripture."

Now, whence were those characters, invisible to all oth-
ei«s, hnt so distinct to his failing eye-sight? Doubtless, they
were recalled fr3m the stores of recollection, where they had
lain hid, apparently lost to himself, by a memory stimulated
into preternatural activity, either by the approach of the spir-
it's release from materia-l honds, or hy the inexplicable influ-
ence of disease. And now the vivid conception was so bodied
forth to the mind's eye, in the season of excitement, as to seem
to him actually pictured on the diseased retina, where the real
images of the external world were fading dimly into darkness.
And thus the walls were covered, to his eye, with the ample
scrolls of a memory enriched by years of study. How merci-
fully does God deal with his children? Here it was so or-
d«>red, that those hours, which, in our apprehensions, we only
think of as filled with anguish and fear, were heguiled with
the contemplation of those sacred truths which had been his
delight in health. And is there not here another illustration of
that theory which seems so like truth — ^that every impression
ever«made on the memory, though it may seem to us obliterat-
ed, is still there, and will some day he revived, that man's soul
is hut a fearful ^Palimpsest"* where the earlier records are.
only in seeming, removed to make way for the later, and all
the laharynthine history will stand out in letters of light, genial
or lurid, to he re-read by the sioul in eternity.

But after this. Dr. Sampson hecame more composed, and
his self-possession returned completely; nor did it leave him
again till the last moment. The strife hetween the powers of
life and disease was decided; pain ceased, and he gently passed
avay. A few hours before the closing scene, his children were
placed around his bed side, to receive his last words: hut the

•DeQulncey,

HSMOIBS OF FBAXOIS B. SAMPSON, D. D. 427

efi'ort to speak to them was so laborious, that at the sugges-
tion of one of the physicians, he relinquished it. After they
retired, he said with the most extreme difBculty, gasping a
word a! a time in whispers, between his labored respirations:
"I liadsome things which I wished to say to them; but perhaps
it is most wisely ordered that I should not say them. They
know how I have lived. I have always taught them that God's
Word i* the only supreme rule of life. They have that — and it
is eiioirgh. Perhaps they niight have put my last words be-
fore God's Word." This was the laiSt connected sentence he
spjkt.

How could he, whose business was to expound the Sacred
Scriptures, have closed his life more appropriately, than with
such an acquiescence in their complete sufficiency — coming as
it did from the heart of a dying father?

Thus he quietly passed away, about 5 o'clock in the after-
noon. The following Tuesday, he was borne to the grave, in
the Seminary burying ground, by the hands of his pupils, and in
the presence of a multitude, every one of whom seemed a sin-
cere mourner.

CHAPTER VIII.

Practical Teachings of such a Life. Reward of Patience and Faith
Humility crowned with Honor. The Price of great Usefulness. Home
Institutions must be sustained. Men of deep toned Piety and pro-
found Scholarship demanded.

And here we should end our task, if we listened only to
the promptings of our own feelings — leaving this life and this
death to speak for themselves. But it is necessary that we
should endeavor to enforce, more pointedly, a few of the im-
pressive lessons which Providence has taught us in giving, and
then taking, s.uch a man. Of the appeal which his example
speaks to the pious youth of our churches, to devote themi-
selves wholly to God, of the loss which the Seminary and the
Presbyterian church has sustained, of the darkness of this act
of her head, and of the duty of implicit trust in the righteousr
ness of his mysterious dealings, nothing will be eaid.

428 MEMOIRS OP FRAMOIS B. SAMPSON, D. D.

But looking back to the source of Dr. Sampson's Christian
life, in the holy example, prayers and instructiDns of the Rev.
Thprnbon Rogers, we see a delightful illustration of the truth,
that "he which converteth the sinner from the error of his
ways," not only "saveth a soul from death, but hideth a mul-
titude of sins." When that good man la^bored in faith for the
salvation ot his irreligious pupil, he little knew what he was
doing. His thought was to pluck him from perdition, and to
make him a Christian, possibly an humble minister. He did
not know that he was instrumentally contributing the most es-
sential part towards the raising up of a master in Israel, whose
steady and benign Idght was to be a blessing to two great
commonwealths, and whose Christian virtues wei-e to be re-
produced in many scores of pastors, many of them, in their
turn, pillars in the church, and fountains of an influence, na-
tional in its extent! Nor do we know, when we endeavor to
do good, with how glorious a result our generous Master may
reward us. Let us, then, not be weary in well doing. 'Mr.
Rogers died in' the prime of his life, and his friends mourned
over the mystery of such a stroke upon such a man, as we have
lately over the loss of his more eminent pupil. But, if his
ministerial life had resulted in nothing else but the gift <^
one such man to the ehurch, would it not have been a suflBcient
result?

Again. The weakness of our faith often staggers at sacri-
fices of worldly good to be made, and diflBculties to be en-
countered, in the path of duty. Let all to whom the voice of
God comes, learn by the example of our brother, to dismiss
these fears, and trust the united command and promise, "Trust
in the Lord and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and
verily thou shalt be fed." It was required of Dr. Sampson, in
order to become a minister of the Gospel, to relinquish, ap-
parently, the direct road to wealth and distinction. In follow-
ing the beck of his master, he was eompeUed to brave many
obstacles, and face threatening privations. But they were, at
last, little more than threats. By the divine 'blessing on his
own economy and industry, he was able at all times to sur-
round himaeilf, and those dear to him, with the comforts and
decencies of life; and these increased ultimately to an ample
competency. His temporal life knew no real want; and there

MSHOtfiS of itLATHCtS S. SAMPSOK, O D. 4^^

was no actual sacpiflce of that external comfort with which
unbelief would have scared him fro'm his duty. And after all —
in seeking the testimony of a good conscience towards Gicd,
he found that distinction which he had not sought; he gratified
hds friends. by winning a far higher social position than that
which he seemed to relinquish to serve God; and became the
ornament and pride of his family. Let no man be afraid to
trust God.

We find in the foregoing history also,'a beautiful example
of the honor which comes to true humjility. If there was one
moral trait pre-eminent in Dr. Sampson, it was mjodesty. The
desdre for self-display seemed to be foreign to his nature. He
ever thought others better than himself. He never schemed or
planned for promotion, but was guided by a magnanimous and
elevated delicacy, which refused to lift a finger, eVen by any
honorable competition, to secure distinction for himself. And
in every public position, on the floor of every church court, his
humility shrank from that prominence to which his wisdom
entitled him. But while, with a single eye, forgetful of self,
he was taking care of 'his Master's interests, that Master took
care of his reputation. Though his position was one of scholas-
tic privacy, and Ms talents were rather solid than brilliant, he
steadily grew upon the appreciation Of his brethren, until his
early death found him enjoying 'a~ cMifldence, love and admira-
tion, solid and extensive enough to satisfy any ambition. Where
is the man, of only thirty-nine years, within the limits of the
whole Presbyterian church, whose death would now leave a
gap harder to be filled, or excite a sorrow more general and
sincere?

While our brother sought out thie lowest seat, God said to
him, and the church repeated, "Go up higher." Would that this
example might seal upon the heart of every young minister in
our church the lesson, "Every one that exalteth himself shall
toe abased, and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted."
Would that all the unworthy arts of an unsanctifled ambition
were as unknown in the church as they were in the conduct of
this pure. Christian gentleman. They are as foolish and sui-
cidal as they are unworthy.

The results of Dr. Sampson's life and labors present a pain-
ful yea, almost a cruel illustration of the evils which have

430 HXM0IB8 OF FBAN0T8 8. SAMPSolf, D. D.

more than once flowed from the tardy and partial oo-operation,
extended by our churches at the South, to their own public in-
stitutions'. Here were industry, talents and acquirements that
would have been sought after and valued by the largest theolo-
gical schools in the land. Believing that God's providence
pointed him to Union Seminary as his post, 'he poured out the
riches of his mental treasures in her service. And to purchase
what? Was it a worthy result of such a life, or a sufflcientt
recompense for such an expenditure, to train a body of pupils,
ranging, during the sixteen years of his labors, from eleven to
twenty? Let us not be 'misunderstood. We know that, intrin-
sically, the training of one true minister — yea, the salvation of
one soul, is worth the whole labors -of an army of the most
learned divines during their whole life. And were there but
the one soul in the wonld, liable to perdition, it would be the
part of sober wisdom to expend all of this labor in its behalf
al'one. But while the field is so vast, and so white to the har-
vest, and opportunities for doing good open so immeasurably
before the eye of Christian enterprise, it is a waste to expend,
for a very few, labors and talents which might elsewhere have
blessed a multitude. We may securely ask this question. Sup-
pose that the warmest friends of Union Seminary in 1838, being
also the true friends 'of Dr. Sampson and of Christ's cause,
cou'ld have foreseen that he had just sixteen precious years to
labor; that he would soon attain such eminent capacities for
his work; and that in spite of his acknowledged abilities, the
lack* of hearty co-operation and wise and seasonable effort on
the part of others, would cabin and confine his field of use-
fulness to this narrow bound — would they themselves have been
willing, would they have dared, to urge him to make the un-
equal sacrifice? A regard to the interests 'of Christ's kingdom
would have forbidden it. They would have said, "We dare not
selfishly expend so much, for so small a result. The field is the
world. Let him go where, being better sustained, he can effect
something larger for his Master." But they hoped better things
for their own enterprise; and hoping, they honestly invited
him to enlist in that important cause, in which they were sin-
cerely struggling. He obeyed the call. He toiled on, hoping
against hope, with magnanimous self-devotion; and most like-
ly, sacrificed not only his ia'bors, 'but his life, an expenditure

HBH0IB8 Of FfiAirOlS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 431

partially useless, in endeavoring to bear his unequal burden.
And now, after the catastrophe, as his friends stand over the
grave of so much that was noble in morals, wise in understand-
ing and vigorous in action, they feel a regret, cruel, yea, im-
medicable, except by the submisslveness of faith, that his prec-
ious life was, in part, spent in vain. Not in vain, thank God!
as to Ais reward, nor useless as to those indirect results, which,
we trust, the wisdom and grace of God will bring out of his
labors and example. But he was permitted to reap but a part
of those abundant fruits which sueh labors should have earned,
in his own life time, in such a country and such an age as ours.
And this regret is ever embittered by the symptoms of return-
ing prosperity and extending usefulness, which now appear in
his darling institution. How touching the fate, that after six-
teen years of toil, and hopes deferred, he was snatched awaj)
just as the smiles of success began to gladden his heart! But
iere, our regret is softened by the thought, that he has en-
tered upon a reward of his labors far sweeter than that of a
visible success.

But this is not the first (would that it might be the last)
instance, in which our peo.ple have been half aroused by a par-
tial! sense of our social necessities, so as to set on foot some
weak and half endowed effort for their supply. And then they
supinely relax, and even make the half starved weakness of
those institutions which they call their own, and whose ill suc-
cess is their own loss and shame, the pretext for bestowing their
indolent and heedless favors on foreign institutions, which are
flourishing and popular because their natural owners and sup-
porters, with a wiser forecast and energy, stood by them in
their weakness. Meantime, those nobler spirits, who have been
thrust forward into the breach, and whose clearer vision sees
the vital importance of home enterprises to all our vital inter-
ests, wear away the springs of life, in a generous but useless
sacrifice. And (meantime the commonwealth, for the lack of
these home institutions, lags farther and farther in the rear,
and sends forth her money, her sons, her energies, her life
blood, to fecundate the soils and adorn the fame of rival states!
Must a hecatomb of her noblest lives be immolated, before the
slumbering spirit of Virginia will awake to know and embrace
her own interests?

433 HEUOIBS OF fRAKCIS S. SAHPSOK, D. D.

But yet, as long' as there is hope of Virginia, that "she is
not d«ad, but sleepeth," let her sans hear the voice which de-
mands that they, shall be satisfied with none but the highest
acquirements. In the example which we have been contemplat-
ing, the young ministers of our church may see the importance,
and the solemn obligation of aiming at the highest standard of
theological learning. If the church, if our Synods, would retain
their respectability and influence, they must have a reserved
corps of men, whose well-trained faculties, wide scholarship,
and elevated character, will fit thean to step at once into any
of our places of trust and responsibility. Otherwise, we are re-
duced to one of two equally mortifying and ruinous alterna-
tives, to commit those responsible posts to ill-furnished and in-
competent men, who will betray the influence and character of
our enterprises, in this age of honorable competition and vigor-
ous progress in all other sections of our land, or else go
begging to other sections, to get such men as they can
afford to spare us. Have these Synods such a b3dy of reserved
talent and learning now? If the valuable 'men, who now fill the
professorships and presidencies of our Presbyterian Colleges
and State Universities, were removed by death, could the Syn-
ods point with confidence to sons of theirs, and tell them to
step into the breaches, and account them fitted to take up the
fallen mantles? If the chairs of our Seminary were vacated,
would or would not the Synods be at fault, in their search for
successors, to whDm they could confidingly commit those im-
port'ant posts? When Dr. Sampson fell prematurely, did they
feel that it was easy to find imany men in their borders, from
among whom to select his successor?

It is not necessary that these questions be answered here.
There may be an evil in the church far more portentous than a
stinted supply of ministers. It is that which comes, when her
younger ministry are satisfied with those more shallow attain-
ments, which secure them a modicum of popular applause and
favor, indolently recline upon the dependence of a facile and
plausible pulpit taJent, and relax those severer studies, by which
the profound scholar is formed. It is an evil which strikes at
he roDt of our prosperity, and when it prevails, can only be re-
paired at the root, and therefore, repaired tediously. For Uiese

UBHOIBS 01* FBAlTCtB S. SAltFSOK. O. D. 433

surface men cannot even reproduce their kind, sorry as is their
Mnd, and the general prevalence of such a type of ministerial
acquirement renders inevitable a subsequent dearth of even
second rate ministers, and a state of starveling dependence on
other sections.

We therefore beseech our young brethren, as for our life,
to imitate the noble example which God has mercifully given
our Zion in our lost brother, and to resolve t;hat they will be
satisfied with nothing short of the fullest development of facul-
ties, the soundest acquirements, and the most scriptural, hum-
ble and manly piety, which are within the reach of the most
sustained diligence. This is no less the oommand of duty, than
of a sanctified ambition. We are to love and serve God with
aill our heart, and mind, and strength, and soul. We are par-
tially guilty of burying our talents, unless we prepare ourselves
to meet the highest exigencies which are within the possibilities
of our natural gifts.

In the life of Dr. Sampson, we see how directly that kind of
scholarship which is usually esteemed least practical in a min-
ister of the gospel, an extensive acquaintance with orientad lit-
erature, was made to subserve the interests of the church — yea,
how Immediately and necessarily those interests would have
suffered, for the lack of them.

If there is one thing proved by an experience of some twen-
ty-five years, it is, that none but first rate men can now effec-
tually subserve the institutions and interests of these Synods,
in their prominent posts. To secure so many such men as they
will need, there must be a liberal number, especially among
their younger ministry, capable of the greatest things, from
among whom they may choose. We do not expect to find plants
of tallest and most vigorous growth among the few untimely
shoots which spring up here and there in the season of wintry
sterility. We expect to find them all puny, for the same rea-
son which makes them few. And if one is found truly vigor-
ous, it is a true lusus naturae. We look for the full grown plant
amidst the teeming abundance of the fruitful summer, and in
the thickest part of a thick and emulous crop.

Unless we have, then, such a body of noble men, "whose
hearts God hath touched," we do not say our cause is lost, but
we say that success, worthy of the cause, is impossible. The

434 MUMOIRS OF FRANCIS 8. SAMPSON. D. D.

church expects every man to be the greatest he can be. She
■needs men who have begun, in the first place, by laying the
foundation of a thorough and full academical course, which
entirely transcends that scanty range of scholarship which is
too often the limit of our collegiate courses; or else, if this is
lacking, men who have repaired the lack by the herculean exer-
tions of later years. Then, they must be men who superadd to
thif rot only such a theolDgical training as will pass them cred-
it:ii;lv through Presbyteries, and suffice for the making of gen-
teel little sermons, but a thorough and ever widening knowl-
edge of tJie original languages of the Scriptures, and the do-
ings and doctrines of the great masters of theology in all ages.
They must also be men free from trivial but odious tricks of
personal indulgence or weakness — men, whose directness of
aim, whose humble dignity of character, whose self possession,
whose fervent energy in doing good will impress and awe the
popular mind. For, without these moral traits, brilliant facul-
ties and acquirements will be to the church little more than
splendid vexations. And last — they must be men whose eye is
single, whose hearts and purposes are governed by a profound
and steady love of God. Such was Francis S. Sampson. Would
that all the sons of our church might be such. She has had no
more pure, more symmetrical, more elevated example, to which
she may point her young ministers and meonbers, and say, "Tk'
ye followers of him, even as he also was of Christ."

TRUE COURAGE.

A Discourse Commemorative of Lieut.-General Thomas J. Jack-

Note: General Jackson died May 10th, 1863. In June fol-
lowing, the author was urgently requested to deliver a memor-
ial sermon for him in Richmond. Having acceded to this re-
quest, he prepared the following discourse, and delivered it in
the First Presbyterian Church, the evening of the first Sabbath
of June, before a vast assemblage of officers, soldiers, and citi-
zens. If the reader has happened to have seen also the Life of
General Jackson, he will notice a certain similarity of thoughts,
and even of language, in tie sermon and in some parts of the
narrative. The author has not been careful to suppress the
whole of these in republishing the .sermon, because he was not
nfrnid of the charge of repeating his own matter, where it form-
ed so appropriate, and indeed, so necessary a part of both com-
l)ositions.

''Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that, have no more than
they can do. But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear; Fear him which, after he
hath killed, hath power to cast into hell: yea. I say unto you, fear him."— Luke 12:4-5.

A little wisdom and experience will teach us to be very
modest, in interpreting God's purposes by his providences. "It
is the glory of the Lord to conceal a thing." His designs are
too vast and complex for our puny minds to infer them, from
the fragments of his ways which fall under our eyes. Yet, it is
evident, that He intends us tn learn instruction from the events
which occur before us under the regulation of his holy will.
The profane are more than once rebuked by him (as Is. 5: 12)
because "they regard not The work of the Lord, neither con-
sider the operation of his hands." And our Saviour sharply
chides the Jewish Pharisees: "O ye hypocrites! ye can discern
the face of the sky; but can ye not discern the signs of the

433 TfiUE OOVtLAQt.

times?" (Matt. 16: 3.) We are noftherefore to refuse the les-
sons lOf those events which Providence evolves, because caution
and humility are required in learning them. We have a guide,
wliich will conduct us securely to the understanding of so much
of them as God intends us to study: That guide is the Holj'
Scriptures. Among the several principles which they lay down
for the explanation of &od's dealings, it is sufficient for our
present task, to declare this one: That the characters of his
children, which exhibit the scriptural model, are given as ex-
aanples, to be studied and imitated by us. He would thus teach
us more than those abstract conceptions of Christian excellence,
which are conveyed by general definitions of duty; he would
give Ui fc iJ^ 'f; picture and concrete idea. He thus aims to
stimulate o'ii- aspirations and. efforts, by showing us that the at
tainments of holiness are within human reach. He enstamps
the moral likeness on the imitative soul by the warmth of ad-
miration and love. That such is the use God intends us to
make of noble examples, the Apostle Jaimes teaches us (5 : 10) —
"Take, my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in the name
of the Lord, for an example of suffering affliction and of pa-
tience"; and the Epistle to the Hebrews (6: 12) when it desires
us to "be followers of them who, through faith and patience,
inherit the promises."

Comimon sense teaches us then, from these texts, that the
lesson is important and impressive, in proportion as the ex
ample given us was illustrious. By this rule, God addresses to
us instruction of solemn emphasis, in the character, and the
death, which we have now met to commemorate. Our dead heiHj
is God's sermon to us, his embodied admoiuition, his incorporate
discourse, to inculcate upon us the virtues with which he was
adwrned by the Holy Ghost; and especially those traits of the
citizen, the Christian, and the soldier, now most essential to
the times. He calls us, not to exhaust the occasion in useless
sensibilities, but to come and iearn the beauty of holiness, by
the light of a shining example; and to let our passionate love
and grief burn in upon the plastic heart, the impress of his prin-
ciples. Happy shall I be, if I can so conceive and execute my
humble task, as to permit this character to speak its own high
lesson to your hearts. The only reason which makes you think
this task appropriate to me, is doubtless this: that I had the

TRUE COURAGE. 437

privilege of his friendship,- and an opportunity for intimately
observing his character, during the most hrilliant part of his
career. The expectations which you form'from this fact, must
he my justification from the charge of egotism, if I should al-
lude to my own observations of him, in exemplifying these in-
structions. But I must also forewarn you, that should there
he any expectation of mere anecdote to gratify an idle curios-
ity, or of any disclosures lof confidential intercourse, now douhly
sanctified hy the seal of the tomh, it will not he gratified. And
let it be added, that however the heart may prompt encomiums
on the departed, these are not the direct object, hut only the
incidental result, of this discourse. I stand here, as God's her-
ald, in God's sanctuary, on his holy day, hy his authority. My
business is, not to praise any man, however beloved and be
wailed, but only to unfold God's message through his life and
death. Among that circle of virtues which his symmetrical
character displayed, since time would fail me to do justice to
all, I propose more especially, to select one, for our considera-
tion, his Christian courage.

CJourage is the opposite of fear. But fear may be described
either as a feeling and appreciation of existing danger, or an
undue yielding to that feeling. It is in the latter sense, that it
is unworthy. In the former, it is the necessary result of the
natural desire .for well-heing, in a creature endued with reflec-
tion and forecast. Hence, ■a true courage implies the existence
of fear, in. the form of a sense, that is, of a feeling of danger.
For courage i^ hut tlie overcoming of that feeling hy a worthier
motive. A danger unfelt is as though it did not exist. No man
could he called hrave for advan cing coolly upon a risk of which
he was totally unconscious. It is only where there is an exer-
tion of fortitude in 'bearing up against the consci3''sness .of
peril, that true courage has place. If there is any ir. " -■lio can
literally say that "he knows no fear," then h<- c ■«■=■■ 'ps no
credit for his coanposure. True, a generous fortiLiiae, in re-
sistiflig the consciousness of danger, will partly extinguish it;
so that a sensihility to it, over-sensitive and prominent among
the emotions, is an indication of a mean self-love.

There are three emotions which claim the name of eourage.
The first is animal courage. This is but the ferment of animal
passions and blind sympathies, combined with an irrational

438 TKUB OOUEAGE.

thoughtlessness. The man is courageous, 3nly hecause he re-
fuses to. reflect ; hold hecause he is blind. This animal hardi-
hood, according to the ohvious truths explained ahove, does
not deserve the name of true courage; because there is no ra-
tional, fDrtitude in resisting the consciousness of danger. And
it is little worthy of trust; for having no foundation in a reason-
ing self command, a sudden, vivid perception of the evil hither-
to unnoted, may, at any moment, supplant it with a panic, as
unreasoni-- and intense as the previous fury. The second
species of CDurage is that prompted hy the spirit of personal
honor. There is a consciousness of risk ; hut it is manfully con-
trolled hy the sentiment of pride, the keener fear of reproach,
and the desire of applause. This kind of fortitude is more wor-
thy of the name of CDurage, hecause it exhihits self-command.
But after all, the motive is personal and selfish; and therefore
the sentiment does not rise to the level of a virtue. The third
species is the moral CDurage of him who fears God, and, for
that reason, fears nothing else. There is an intelligent appre-
hension ot danger; there is the natural instinct of self-love desir-
ing to preserve its own well-being; 'but it is curbed and governed
by the sense of duty, and desire for the approbation of God.
This alone is true courage; true virtue; f3r it is rational, and
its motive is moral and unselfish. It is a true Christian grace,
when found in its purest forms, a grace whDse highest exem-
plar, and whose source, is the Divine Redeemer; whose princi-
ple is that parent grace of the sonl/aitA. "David, and Samuel,
and the prophets, through faith suhdued kingdoms, * * *
waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens."
(Heh. 11 : 33, 34.) Trust in God, in his faithfulness, his appro-
hation, his reward, his command to hrave the risques allotted
t3 them, was their motive. But "Christ dwelleth in our hearts
by faith." ' (Eph. 3: 17.) This is the principle by which the soul
of the heliever is hrought into living union with Christ; and
the heart, otherwise sapless and withered. Is penetrated by the
vital sap of his holy Spirit. He is the head ; men of faith his
members; he the stock; they the hranches; his divine principles
circulate from him into their souls, and assimilate them to him.
But the whole mission of Jesus Christ on earth is a divine ex,-
emplificatiDn of moral courage. What was it, save the unsel-
fish sentiment of duty, overruling the anticipations of personal

TKUJ! COURAGE. 437

evil, whk-h made him declare, in prospect of all tlie woes of his
incarnation, "Lo I coine, in the volume of the book it is writ-
ten of me; I delight to do thy will Oh my God?" What else
i-aused him to press forward with eager, hungering haste,
through the toils and obloquy of his persecuted life, to that
baptism of blood, which awaited him in Jerusalem? What else
nerved him, when deserted, betrayed, and destined to death,
desolate, "and fainting, amddst a pitiless flood of enemies,
one word of disclaimer might have rescued him, to refuse that
word, and assert his rightful kingship over Zion, with a tenacity
more indomitable than the grave? Jesus Christ is the divine
pattern and fountain of herodsm. Earth's true heroes are they
who derive their courage from him.

Yet it is true, the three kinds of bravery which have been
defined, may be mixed in many 'breasts. Some who have true
moral courage may also have animal hardihood; and others of
the truly brave may lack it. No Christian courage, perhaps,
exists without a union of that which the spirit of personal hon-
or, in its innocent phase, inspires; and many men of honor have
perhaps some shade of the pure sentiment of duty, mingled
with the pride and self-glorifying, which, chiefly nerve their
fortitude. But he is the bravest man who is the best Christian. It
is he who truly fears God, who is entitled to fear nothing else.

I. He whose conduct is governed by the fear of God, is
brave, because the powers of his soul are in harmony. There
is no mutiny or war within, of fear against shame, of duty
against safety, of conscience and evil desire, by which the bad
man has his heart unnerved. All the nobler capacities of the
soul combine their strength, and especially, that master power,
of which the wicked are compelled to sing: "It is conscience
that makes cowards of us all," invigorates the soul with her
plaudits. In conscious rectitude there is strength.

This strength General Jackson eminently possessed. He
walked in the fear of God, with a perfect heart, keeping all his
commandments and ordinances, blameless. Never has it been
my happiness to know one of greater purity of life, or mores
regular and devout habits of prayer. As ever in his great task-
master's eye, he seemed to devote every hour to the sentiment
of duty, and only to live to fulfill his charge as a servant of
God. Of this be assured, that all his eminence and' success as

440 TRUE OOUEAGE.

a great and hrave soldier, were based -on liis eminence and
sanctity as a Christian. Thus, erery power of his soul was
hrought to move in sweet accord, under the guidance of an en-
lightened and honest conscience. How could such a soul fail
to he courageous for the right?

But especially did he derive firmness and decision, from
the peculiar strength of his conviction concerning the right-
eousness and necessity of this war. Had he not sought the light
of the Holy Scriptures, in thorough examination and prayer,
had his pure and honest conscience not justified the act, even
in the eye of that Searcher of hearts, whose fear was his ever-
present, ruling principle, never would he have drawn his sword
in this great quarrel, at the prompting of any sectional pride, or
amhition, or interest, or anger, or dread of ohloquy. But hav-
ing judged for himself, in all sincerity, he decided, with a force
of conviction as fixed as the everlasting hills, that our enemies
were the aggressors, that they assailed vital, essential rights,
and that resistance unto death was our right and duty. On the
correctness of that decision, reached through fervent prayer,
under the teachings of the sure word of Scripture, through the
light of the Holy Spirit, which he was assured Grod vouchsafed
to him, he stood prepared to risk, not only earthly prospects
and estate, but an immortalsoul; and to venture, without one
quiver of douht or fear, hefore the irrevocahle bar of God the
Judge. The great question: "What if I die in this quarrel,"
was deliberately settled; so deliherately, so maturely, that he
wal ready to venture his everlasting all upon the belief that
this was the path of duty.

II. The second reason which makes the man of faith hrave,
is stated in the context: "Are not five sparrows sold for two
farthings, and not one of them is forgotten hefore God? But
even the very hairs of your head are all numhered: Fear not
therefore; ye are of more value than many sparrows." God's
special providence is over all his creatures, and all their ac-
tions; it is over them that fear him; for their good only. By
that almighty and omniscient providence, all events are either
produced; or at least permitted, limited, and overruled. There
is no creature so great as to resist its power, none so minute
as to evade its wisdom. Each particular act among the most
multitudinous which confound our attention by their number,

TRUE OOtJEAGE. 441

or the most fortuitoils, which entirely haffle our inquiry into
their causes, is regulated hy this intelligent purpose of God.
Even when the thousand missiles of death, invisihle to mortal
sight, and sent forth aimless hy those who launched them, shoot
in inexplicable oonfu«icm over the battle-fleld, his eye gives each
one an aim and a purpose, according to the plan of his wisdom.
Thus teacheth our Saviour.

Now, the child of God is not taught what is the special
will of God as to himself; he has no revelation as to the secur-
ity of his person. Nor does he presume to predict what par-
ticular dispensation Gk)d will grant to the cause in which he is
embarked. But he knows that, be it what it may, it will be wise,
and right, and good. Whether the arrows of death shall smite
him or pass hita by, he knows no more than the unbelieving sin-
ner; hut he knows that neither event can happen him without
the purpose and will of his Heavenly Father. And that will,
he it whichever it may, is guided hy divine wisdom and love.
Should the event prove a revelation of God's decision, and this
was the place, and this the hour, for life to end; then he ac-
cepts it with calm suhmission; for are not the time and place
chosen for him hy the All-Tvise, who loves him from eternity?
Him who walks in the true fear of God, God loves. He hath
adopted him as Ms son forever, through his faith on the right-
eousness of the Redeemer. The divine anger is forever extin-
guished hy the atonement of the Lamb of God, and the un-
changeahle love of God is conciliated to him hy the spotless
righteousness of his substitute. The preciousness of the Un-
speakable gift which God gave for his redemption, even the life
of the Only-hegotten, and the earnest of the Holy Ghost, be-
stowed upon him at first while a guilty sinner, are the argu-
ments to this ieliever, of the richness and strength of God's
love to him. He knows that a love so eternal, so free, so strong,
in the breast of such a God and Saviour, can leave nothing un-
bestowed, which divine wisdom perceives to he ftor his true
good. "He that spared not his own Son, hut delivered liim up
for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all
things." (Rom. 8: 32.) And this love has enlisted tor his sale-
guard, all the attrihutes of God, which are the security of his
own blessedness. Why dwelleth the divine mind in incffahle,
perpetual peace? Not because there are none to assail it; hut

442 TRUE COURAGE.

because God is conscious iu himself of infinite resources, for de-
fense and victory; of a knowledge which no cunning can de-
ceive; of 'a power which no combination can fatigue. Wjeljl,
these same attributes, which support the stability of Jehovah's
throue. surround the weakest child of &od, with all the zeal of
redet-ming love. "The eternal God is his refuge; and under-
neath hiiu are the everlasting arms." (Deut. 3.3: 27.) There-
fore saith the Apostle, that the believer hath "his heart and
uiiud garrisoned by the peace of God which passeth all under-
standing." (Phil. 4:7.) And therefore our Saviour saith, with
a literal emphasis of which our faint hearts are slow to take
in the full glory: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give
unto you." (John 14 : 27.) In proportion as God's children have
faith to embrace the love of God to them, are they lifted in
spirit to his very throne, and can look down upon the rage of
battle, and the tumult sf the people, with some of the holy dis-
dain, the ineffable security, which constitute the blessedness of
God. "Their life is hid with Christ in God."

It has been said that General Jackson was a fatalist, by
those who knew not whereof they aflSrmed. He was a strong
believer in the special providence of God. The doctrine of a
Fate is, that all events are fixed by an immanent, physical nc
cessity in the series of causes and effects themselves; a neces-
sity as blind and unreasoning as the tendency of the stone
towards the earth, when unsupported from beneath; a neces-
sity as much controlling the intelligence and will of God as of
creatures; a necessity which admits no modification of results
through the agency of second causes, but renders them inopera-
tive and nan-essential, save as the mere, passive stepping atones
in the inevitable progression. The doctrine of a Providence
teaches that the regular, natural agency of seooml causes is
sustained, preserved, and regulated by the power and intelli-
gence of (Jod; and that in and through that agency, every event'
is directed by his most wise and holy will, according to his plan,
and the laws of nature which he has ordained. Fatalism tends
to apathy, ta absolute inaction: a belief in the providence of the
Scriptures, to intelligent and hopeful effort. It does not over
throw, but rather establish the agency of second causes, be-
cause it teaches us that God's purpose to effectuate events only
through them (save in the case of miracles) is as steadfast, as

TRUE OOURASE. 443

his purpose to carry out his eternal plan. Hence it produces a
combination of courageous serenity, — with cheerful diligence
in the use of means. My illustrious leader was as laborious as
he was trustful ; and laborious precisely because he was trust
ful. Every thing that self-sacrificing care, and preparation, and
forecast, and toil, could do, to prepare and to earn success, he
did. An.d therefore it was, that God, without whom "the watch-
man waketh but in vain," usually bestowed success. So like-
wise, his belief in the superintendence of the Almighty was a
most strong and living conviction. In every order, or dispatch,
announcing a victory, he was prompt to ascribe the result to
the Lord of Hosts; and those simple, emphatic, devout ascrip-
tions were with him^ no unmeaning formalities. In the very
flush of triumph, he has been known to seize the juncture for
the earnest inculcation of this truth upon the minds of his sub
ordinate*. On the momentous morning of Friday, June 27th
1862, as the different corps of the patriot army were moving t(
their respective posts, to fill their parts in the mighty combina
don of their chief, after Jackson had held his final interview
with him, and resumed his march for his position at Cold Har
feour, his eom'mand was misled, by a misconception of his
guides, and seemed about to mingle with, and confuse, another
part of our forces. More than an hour of seemingly precious
time was expended in rectifying this mistake ; while the boom-
ing of cannon in the front told us that the struggle had begun,
and made our breasts thrill with an agony of suspense, lest the
irreparable hour should be lost by our delay; for we had still
many miles to march. When this anxious fear was suggested
privately to Jackson, he answered, with a calm and assured
countenance: "No; let us trust that the providence of our God
will so overrule it, that no mischief shall result." And verily ;
no mischief did result. Providence brought us precisely into
conjunction with the bodies with which we were to co-operate;
the battle was joined at the right juncture and by the time the
stars appeared, the right wing of the enemy, with which he
was appointed to deal, was hurled in utter rout, across the river.
More than once, when sent to bring one of his old fighting bri-
gades into action, 1 had noticed him sitting motionless upon his
horse with his right hand uplifted, while the war worn column
poured in stem silence close by his side. At first it did not ap-

444 TRUE COUBAGE

pear whether It was mere ahstraction of thought, or a posture
to relieve his fatigue. But at Port Republic, I saw it again;
and watching him more narrowly, was convinced by his closed
eyes and moving lips, that he was wrestling in silent prayer. I
thought that I could surmise "what was then passing through
his fervent soul; the sovereignty of that Providence which
worketh all things after the counsel of his owb will, and giveth
the hattle not to the strong, nor the race to the swift: his own
fearful responsihility, and need of that counsel and sound wis
dom, which God alone can give; the crisis of his beloved coun-
try, and the balance trembling between defeat and victory;
the precious lives of his veterans, which the inexorable neces-
sities of war compelled him to jeopardize; the immortal souls
passing to their account, perhaps unprepared; the widowhood
and orphanage which might result from the orders he had just
been compelled to issue. And as his beloved men swept by him
to the front, into the storm of shot, doubtless his great heart,
as tender as it was resolute, yearned over them in unutterable
longings and intercessions, that "the Almighty would cover
them with his feathers, and that his truth might he their shield
and buckler." Surely the moral grandeur of this scene was akin
to that, when Moses stood upon the Mount of Grod, and lifted
up his hands, while Israel prevailed against Amalek! And what
soldier would not desire to have the shield of such prayers, un-
der which to fight? Were they not a more powerful element
of success than the artillery, or the bayonets of the Stonewall
Brigade?

lU. The true fear of God ensures the safety of the iro"-
mortal soul. United to Christ by faith, adopted into the un-
changing favor of God, and heir of an inheritance in the skies
which is as secure as the throne of God, the believing soul, is
lifted above the reach of bodily dangers. But the soul is the
true man, the true self, the part whieh alone feels or knows,
desires or fears, siorrows or rejoices, and which lives forever.
It is its fate which is irrevocable. If it he lost, all is lost; and
finally lost; if it he secure, all other losses are secondary, yea,
in comparison, trivial. To the child of God, the rage of ene-
mies, mortal weapons, and pestilence are impotent. True, he
has no assurance that they may not reach his body, but they
reach his body only, and,

TRtra OOtJKAGB. 446

"If the plague eome nigh,
And sweep the wicked down to hell,

T'will raise the saints on high."
This is our Saviour's argument, "Be not afraid of them
that kill the body; and after that have no more that they can
do" Pagan fable perhaps intended to foreshadow this gliorious
truth, when it descrdbed its hero with a body made invulnerable
by its bath in the divine river, and therefore insensible to fear,
and indifferent to the weapons of death. But the spiritual real-
ity of the allegory is found only in the Christian, who has wash-
ed his soul from the stain of sin (which alone causes its death),
in the Redeemer's blood. He is the invulnerable man. "The
arrow cannot make him flee; darts are counted as stubble; he
laugheth at the shaking of a spear." He shares, indeed the
natural affections and instincts which make life sweet to every
■man, and bodily pain and death fonmidable. But these emo-
tions of his sensuous being are counteracted by his faith, which
gives to his soul a substantial, inward sense of heavenly life, as
more real and satisfying than the carnal. The clearer the faith
of the 'Christian, the more complete is this victory over natural
fears. To the mere unbeliever, this mortal life is his all-in-all,
bodily death is utter extinction, pain is the master evil, and
the grave is covered by a horror of great darkness unrelieved
by one ray of hope or light. And Christians of a weaker type,
in their weaker moments, cannot shake off the shuddering of
nature in the presence of these, the supreme evils of the na-
tural man. But as faith brightens, that tremor is quieted; the
more substantial the grasp of faith on eternal realities, the
more does the giant death dwindle in his proportions, the less
miortal does his sword appear, the narrower and more trivial
seems the gap which he makes between this life and the higher;
because that better life is brought nearer to the apprehension of
the soul. Does the eagle lament to see the wolf ravage its de-
serted nest, as it betakes itself to its destined skies, and nerves
its young pinions and flres its eyes in the beam of the king of
day? The believer knows also, that should his body be smit-
ten into the grave, the resurrection day will repair all the
ravages of the sword, and restore the poor tenement to his oc-
cupany, "fashioned like unto Christ's glorious body." He can
adopt the boast of inspiration: "God is our refuge and strength;

446 TK0B OODBAQK

a very present help in troutole. Therefore will not we feaf
though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be car-
ried into the midst of the sea." (Ps. 46: 1, 2.) Amidst the
storm' of battle, and even the wreck of defeat, his steadfast
heart knows no fear.

But that the enemy of God Should have courage in bat-
tle, is incomprehensible to me. It can only be explained by
thoughtlessness. When the danger which assails the body
reaches the soul also, when the weapon that lays the body in
the dust, will plunge the soul into everlasting and intolerable
torments, by what philosophy can a reasoning being brace
himself to meet it? He who has not God for his friend, has no
right to be brave. But we should be far from inferring thence,
that the citizen who is conscious of his enmity to God, is there-
fore justified in shunning the exposure to this risk, at the ex-
pense of duty and honor. This would be but to add sin to sin,
and folly to folly. If safety is not found in the path of duty,
still more surely it will not be found, when out of it. He is in
the greatest danger, who is disobeying God; and infinite wis-
dom and power can never be at a loss for means to strike their
enemy, however far removed wounds and weapons of war may
be. To refuse a recognized duty is the surest way to alienate
the mercy of God, and to grieve that Holy Ghost, on whom we
depend for faith and repentance. The only safe or rational
course therefore, for the ungodly soldier, is to make his peace
with God at once; and thus advance with well-grounded confi-
dence in the path of his duty, and of all men, the soldier has
the strongest reasons to become a Christian !

Such was the foundation of the courage of Jackson. He
walked with God, in conscious integrity; and he embraced with
all his heart "the righteousness of God which is by the faith
of Jesus Christ." His soul, I believe, dwelt habitually in the
full assurance that God was his God, and his portion forever.
His manly and vigorous faith brought heaven so near, that
death had slight terrors for him. While it would be unjust to
charge him with rashness in exposure to danger, yet whenever
his sense of duty prompted it, he seemed to risk his person with
an absolute indifference to fear. The sense of his responsibili-
ties to his country, and the heat of his mighty spirit in the
crisis of battle, might sometimes agitate him^ vehemently; but

TRUE COURAGE. 44*?

never was the most immiinent personal peril seen to disturb
has equanimity for one moment. It is a striking trait of the im-
pression which he has made upon his countrymen, that while
no man could possibly be farther from 'boasting, it always be-
came the first article of the belief of those subject to his com-
mand, tBat he was, of course, a man of perfect courage.

But courage alone does not explain the position which he
held in the hearts of his people. In this land of heroic mem-
ories and brave men, others besides Jackson have displayed
true courage. God did not endow him with several of those
native gifts which are supposed to allure the idolatry of man-
kind, towards their heroes. He affected no kingly mien nor
martial pomp; but always bore himself with the modest pro-
priety of the Christian. Nor did he ever study or practice those
arts, by which a Bonaparte or an Alexander, kindled the enthu-
siasm of their followers. The only manifestation which he ever
made of himself was in the simple and diligent performance of
the duties of his office. His part on the battle-field was usually
rather suggestive of the zeal and industry of the faithful ser-
vant, than of the contagious exaltation of a master-spirit. Na-
ture had not given to him even the corporeal gift of the trum-
pet tones, with which other leaders are said to have roused the
divine phrensy in thedr followers. It was only at times that
his modest and feeble voice was lifted up to his hosts; and
then, as he shouted his favorite call: "Press forward," the
fiery energy of his will, thrilled through his rapid utterance,
rather like the deadly clang of the rifle, than the sonorous pifeal
of the clarion. His was a master-spirit; but it was too simply
grand to study dramatic sensations. It impressed its might
upon the souls of his countrymen, not through deportment, but
through deeds. Its discourses were toilsome marches and bat-
tles joined, its perorations were the thunder-claps of defeat
'hurled upon the enemies of his country. It revealed itself to us
only through the purity and force of his action; and therefore
the intensity of the effect he has produced.

This may help to explain the enigma of his reputation.
How is it that this man, of all others least accustomed to exer-
dse his own fancy, or address that of others, has stimulated the
imagination, not only of his countrymen, but of the civilized
world, above all the sons of genius among us? How has he.

448 TRtJE OOTTRAGE.

the most unromantic of great men, become the hero of a living
romance,, the ideal of an inflamed fancy in every mind, even
before his life had passed into history! How did that calm eye
kindle the fire of so passionate a love and admiration in the
heart of his people? He was brave, but not the only ibrave.
He revealed transcendant military talent; but the diadem of
his country now glows with a galaxy of such talent. He was
successful; but we have more than one captain, whose bannt'i'
never trailed before an enemy. I will tell you the solution. It
was, chiefly, the singleness, purity, and elevation of his alms.
Every one who observed him was as thoroughly convinced of
his unselfish devotion to duty as of his courage; as certain that
no thought of personal advancement, of ambition or applause,
ever for one instant divided the homage of his heart with his
great cause, and tjjat "all the ends he aimed at were his coun-
try's, his God's, and truth's," as that he was brave. The love
of his countrymen is the spontaneous testimony of the common
conscience, to the beauty of holiness. It is the confession of
our nature that the virtue of the Sacred Scriptures, which is a
virtue purer and loftier than that of philosophy, is the true
greatness, grander than knowledge, talent, courage, or success.
Here, then, as I believe, is God's chief lesson in his life and
death (and the belief encourages auspicious hoi>es concerning
God's designs towards us.) He would teach us the beauty and
power of pure Christianity, as an element of our social life, of
our national career. Therefore he took an exemplar of Chris-
tikn sincerity, as near perfection as the infirmities of our na-
ture would permit, formed and trained in an honorable retire-
ment; he set it in the furnace of trial, at an hour when great
events and dangers had awakened the popular heart to most
intense action; he illustrated it with that species of distinic-
tion which above all others, attracts the popular gaze, military
glory; and held it up to the admiring inspection of a country
grateful for the deliverances it had wrought for us. Thus he
has taught us, how good a thing his fear is. He has made all
men see and acknowledge that, in this man, his Christianity was
the fountain head of the virtues and talents, which' they so
rapturously applauded; that it was the fear of God which made
him so fearless of all else; that it was the love of God which
animated his energies; that it was the singleness of his aim's

MEMOISS OF I'EAltCIS 8. SAMPSON. D. D. 449

which caused his wh9le body to be so full of light, that the
unerring decisions of his judgment, suggested to the unthink-
ing, the belief in his actual inspiration; and that the lofty chiv-
alry of his nature was but the reflex of the Spirit of Christ. Do
not even the profane admit this explanation of his character?
Here then, is God's lesson, in this life, to these Ck)nfederate
States: "It is righteousness that exalteth." Hear it ye young
men, ye soldiers, ye magistrates, ye law-givers; that "he that
exalteth himself shall be atoased; but he that humbleth him-
self shall be exalted."

But what would he teach us by his death, to our view so
untimely? To this question, human reason can only answer,
that God's judgments are far above us, aud past our finding out.

One lovely Sabbath, riding alone with me to a religious
service in a camp, Greneral Jackson was talking of the general
prospects of the war, hopefully, as he ever did. But at the close,
he assumed an air of intense seriousness, and said : "I do not
mean to convey the impression that I have not as much to live
for as any man, and that life is not as sweet. But I do not de-
sire to survive the independence of my country." Can this
death be the answer to that wish? Can the solution be, that
having tried us, and found us unworthy of such a deliverer,
God has hid his favorite in the grave, in the brightness of his
hopes, and before his blooming honors received any blight from
disaster, from the calamities which our sins are about to bring
upon us? Nay; we will not believe that the legacy of Jack-
son's prayers was all expended by us, when he died; they Willi
yet avail for us all the 'more, that they are now sealed by his
blood. The deliverance of the Jews did not end with the un-
timely end of Judas Maccabee. The death of William of Orange
was not the death of the Dutch Republic. The lamented fall
of John Hampden was not the fall of the liberties of England.
And, if we may reverently associate another instance with
these, the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth, was, contrary to
the fears of his disciples, but the beginning of the sect of the
Nazarenes. So, let us hope, the tree of our liberties will flourith
but the more for the precious blood by which it is watered.

May it not be, that God, after enabling him to render all
the service which was essential to our deliverance, and showing
us in him, the brightest example of the glory of Christianity,

450 TRUJC COOUAGE.

has bid him enter into the joy of his Lord, at this juncture, in
order to warn us against 3ur incipient idolatry, and make us
say: "It is better to trust in the Lord, than to put confldemce
in pninces?" No man would more strongly deprecate this idol-
atry of human instruments, than Jackson, and never so strong-
ly, as when addressed to himself. None can declare more em-
phatically than would he, if he spoke to us from the skies, that
while man is mortal, the cause is immortal. Away then, with
unmanly discouragements, God lives, though our hero is dead.

That he should have toiled so hard for the independence of
his country, and so ardently desired it; and then at last, be for-
bidden to hail the day of our final deliverance, or to receive the
grateful honors which his fellow-citizens were preparing for
him; this has saddened every heart with a pang both tender
and pungent. The medicine to this pain, my ibrethren, is to re-
member, that he has entered into a triumph and peace, so much
more glorious than that which he bled to achieve for his coun-
try. It would have been sweet to us, to hail him returning from
his last victory to a delivered and enfranchised country; sweet
to see and sympathize with the joy with which he hung up bis
sword, and paid the sacrifices of thanksgiving in the courts of
the Lord's house; sweet to witness, with reverent respect, the
domestic bliss of the home for which he so much sighed, solac-
ing him for his long fatigues. That happiness we have lost;
bu ihe has lost nothing. He has laid down his sword at the
footstool of his Father God; he now sings his thanksgiving song
in a fiobler sanctuary than the earthly one he loved so much;
he "bathes his weary soul in seas of heavenly rest."

We who loved him, while we bewail our own loss, should
not forget the circumstances which alleviate the grief of his
death. Surely, it was no ill-chosen time for Grod to call him to
his rest, when his powers were in their undimmed prime, and
his military glory at its zenith; when his greatest victory had
just been won; and the last sounds of earth which reached him
were the thanksgivings and blessings of a nation in raptures for
his achievements ; in tears for his sufferings. I love to remem-
ber, too, that his martyr-life had just been gladdened by the
gratification of those affections which were in him so sweet and
strong, and which yet, he sacrificed, so patiently, for his coun-
try.

TfttK COtJKAflE. 451

Still more do we thank God that it was practicable, as it
might not have been at an earlier, or a later period, for him
to enjoy those ministrations of love, in his last days, which
were the dearest solace of his sufferings. Into the sacredness
of those last communings, and of the grief which survives theni
in his widowed home, we may not allow even our thoughts to
intrude. And yet, may not a mourning nation venture to utter
their blessing on the mourning heart which blessed him wfth
its love; and to pray, that the breast which so magnanimously
calmed its tumult, to make a quiet pillow for the dying head
of their hero, may be visited iby God, with the most healiug
balm of heavenly consolation? Will not all the people say:
amen?

Nor will they farget the tender flower, sole off-shoot of the
parent stock, born to bloom amidst the wintry stonms of war,
which he would fain have forbidden the summer breeze to visit
too roughly. The giant tree which would have shielded it with
pride so loving, lies prone 'before the blast. But His God will
be its God; and as long as the most rugged breast of his hardy
comrades is warm, it will not lack for a parent's tenderness.

And now, with one more lesson, I leave you to the teach-
ings of the mighty dead. If there was one trait which was
eminent in him above the rest, it was determination. This was
the power, before whose steady and ardent heat obstacles melt-
ed away. This was the force, which caused his battalions to
breast the onset of the enemy like ramparts of stone, or else
launched them irresistibly upon their shivered lines. It was His
unconquerable will, and purpose never to submit or yield. Ev-
ery one who was near him imbibed something of this spirit,
for they saw that in him the acceptance of defeat was an im-
possibility. To that conclusion no earthly power could bend
his iron will. Let this example commend to us the same stead-
fast temper. In his fall and that of the noble army of martyrs,
every generous soul should read a new argumi^nt for defending
the cause for which he died, with invincible tenacity. Surely
their very blood might cry out against us from the ground, if
we permitted the soil, which drank the precious libation to be
polluted with the despot's foot! Shall it ever be, that our dis-
couragement or cowardice shall make the sacrifice vain? If we
oonsent to this, then was it not treacherous in us to invite it?

452 TRtJE cbtTRAan.

We should rather have warned them to restrain their generos-
ity, to save the lives they were so ready to lay upon their coun-
try's altar, as too precious to be wasted for a land occupied by
predestined slaves and cowards, and to carry their patriotism
and their gifts to some more propitious clime, and some wor-
thier companionship.

Sueh are the thoughts which should inspire the heart of
every one who stands beside the grave of Jackson. Around that
green and swelling hill stands the circle of solemn mountain
peaks keeping everlasting watch over the home which he loved
and the tomb where his ashes sleep, majestic when the summer
sunset bathes them in azure and gold, but only more grandly
steadfast, when they are black with storms and winter. So, let
us resolve, we will guard the honor and the rights for which he
died, in the hour of triumph, and more immoveably in the hour
of disaster.

MEMORIAL OF LIEUTENANT COLONEL fOHN

T. THORNTON, OF THE THIRD VIRGINIA

CAVALRY, C S. A.

Amidst the great company of Christian heroes whom Vir-
ginia has sacrificed for the independence of the Confederate
States, few names, next to her Jackson's, shine more brightly
than that of Lieut. Col. John T. Thornton, of Prince Edward,
Va. The son of Mr. Wm. Thornton, of Cumberland county, he
inherited from' his father an honorable name, a vigorous under-
standing, and an ample estate. Atter the most careful literary
training, he adopted the profession of law, and chose the town
of Farmville for his residence. From the very ^beginning, his
high honor and qualifications secured him the respect of his
fellow-citizens; and he stepped into a busy practice, in which
he was fast winning the highest grad« of distinction. Here the
present war found him, although still a young man, diligently
engaged in his profession, the pride, the trusted counsellor, and
chosen servant, of bis county, and surrounded with all the do-
mestic bliss which an elegant home, and an engaging family
could confer. This happiness he was peculiarly fitted to enjoy.
But although a liberal supporter, and habitual attendant, of
th« offices of religion, he was not yet a Christian: this crown
was lacking to his character.

Mr. Thornton was in temper a conservative; and accord-
ingly, in politics he was no extremist. Of the convention which
dissolved the connection of Virginia with the Federal Union,
he was chosen a member. There, and in the primary meetings
of the people, his chaste and masculine eloquence was frequent-
ly heard, advocating, on the one hand, all the conciliation and
forbearance towards our assailants consistent with honor and
righteousness, and on the other, the most determined assertion
of our essential rights. After witnessing the scornful rejection

453

454 A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. OOL. JOHN T. THORNTON.

of all the overtures our magnanimous Commonwealth made
for the sake of peace, he heartily concurred in the act which
made her independent of the betrayers of the Constitution; and
when the convention adjourned, he immediately returned home,
and accepted the command of a company of horse, composed of
his friends and neighbors. This troop was embodied in the 3rd
Virginia Cavalry. Although at first a novice in military af-
fairs, he rapidly became a well-instnicted and efiBcient ofiBcer,
while his courage, fortitude, and impartiality, made him the
idol of his men. As the fiirst year of the war apprDached its
end, all the volunteer regiments were reorganized; when he
was chosen Lieutenant Colonel. Concerning this promotion
he thus writes to his wife:

"In, the reorganization of this regiment, I was chosen Lieu-
tenant Colonel. This promotion was unexpected; but I shall
accept it, and endeavor with all my powers to discharge its
duties. I pray God to give me the requisite skill and courage
for this position, that I may so bear myself in it, as to do good
service to my country."

This place he filled with eminent success, and like a go3d
soldier, "bore the heat and burden of the day." Has former as-
sociates remarked with wonder, that he seemed formed by na-
ture for a soldier; that although reared in elegance, and devoted
hitherto almost exclusively to literary pursuits, he seemed to
sleep anywhere, eat anything, and to endure any hardship, with-
out inconvenience. He appeared thus, only because his manly
spirft refused to complain of his trials; while in truth, both
body and mind were suffering acutely under them. Through-
out the bloody campaign of 1862, he was always at his post. In
the expedition into Maryland, he was in command of the 3rd
Regiment, then a part of General Fitzhugh Lee's Cavalry Bri-
gade. In the combat of Boonsboro', when this brigade covered
the retreat of the Confederate Army against the whole host of
McClellan, the light of that clear autumn sun was turned into
darkness by the smoke and battle dust. Down that famed
causeway, as terrible as the jaws of hell, swept by cannon shot
and shells, and by clouds of sharpshooters on the front, and
right, and left. Colonel Thornton led his regiment again and
again, in impetuous charges; until the purpose of the comman-
der-in-chief was secured, in bringing oflf his artillery and trains.

A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. OOL. JOHN T THORNTON. 455

In this fiery ordeal, though his horse was killed under him, he
escaped unscathed. But on the bloody morning of Sharpslburg,
as he was bringing his regiment into position to protect the left
of the army, his punctilious obedience to orders led him to ex-
pose himself during a few minutes' halt, to a battery of the
enemy; and almost the first shot which opened the fearful
drama of the day, gave him a fatal wound. It exploded beside
him, and one fragment tore his saddle to pieces, inflicting an
irreparable shock on his body, while another crushed his arm
almost from the hand to the shoulder. His frightened horse
was arrested by his men, he sunk fainting into their arms, and
was carried to a little farm house near the field. There, the
surgeons endeavored to save his life by amputating his man-
gled limb; but in vain. After lingering for twelve hours insen-
sible or delirious, he fell asleep.

His friends were aware that since he entered the service,
his religious character had undergone a revolution. God,
"whose thoughts are not as our thoughts," had employed the
solemnities of this dreadful war, together with the death ot two
beloved brothers, to mature the convictions, which the sanc-
tuary, and the pure Christian example that blessed his home,
had implanted, but could not perfect. Numerous passages from
his letters illustrate the birth and growth of his remarkable
religious character.

Among the sad remains which were brought along with his
corpse, to his widow, were a few of his prayers, written amidst
the confusion of the 'bivouac, on bits of paper, and folded into
his pocket-Bible. These precious relics of his piety I am per-
mitted to copy; and the purpose of this introductory narrative
is to present them to his personal friends, to his comrades in
arms, and to the soldiers of our patriotic and suffering army,
as his own solemn testimony to the religion of the Lord Jesus
Christ. In them, "he being dead, yet speaketh." The object
is to permit him to speak chiefly for himself: no attempt is made
to do more than place the necessary links of connection be-
tween the pieces which unfold his religious emotions. This
brief portraiture cannot be made without a partial disclosure
of those dearer affections, which iColonel Thornton's sensitive
honor was wont to cover jealously in the sanctity of his own
heart and home. But no brave man will be capable of reading

436 A MEMORIAL OF LtEUT. OOL. JOHN T. THORNTON.

it with any other tlian emotions of reverent sympathy. Nor
will any such fail to recognize, in the spirit which has yielded
these sacred mementoes to the inspection of his brothers-in-
arms, the same self-consecration, and preference of duty over
feeling, which made him the Christian hero. It has only been
done because of the belief, that, could the soul of the departed
speak from that blest abode, where it is now, as we humbly
trust, solaced for its pains, it would pronounce the commending
of Christ to its fellows a dearer object than any earthly tie.

In the opini(m of all who have been permitted to read them,
these prayers are peculiarly excellent. They show a maturity
of Christian feelings, a propriety in the selection Df topics and
language, a tenderness, fervency, and humility, remarkable in
one who was so young in the faith. It is hoped that they will
furnish to many a youug disciple a pattern for his Tjreathings
after the Saviour, and to many a Christian husband and father
in the army, a vehicle for transmitting to heaven his yearnings
for "loved ones at ho^me."

The reader's attention is especially called to the powerful
awakening of the sense of parental responsibility in Colonel
Thornton's bosom, as soon as he became a Christian. His most
cherished desire fDr life, was, that he might return and aid his
beloved wife in guiding the steps of his sons heavenward. It
is noteworthy also, how frequently his servants are included in
these Christian affections. He rarely forgets to send them his
kindly salutations. He feels his obligations, as their master, to
theif souls, and prays for their temporal and eternal welfare.
C-Dlonel Thornton, a large slaveholder, the son of a large plan-
ter, reared near his father's servants, was the fairest type of
that character, as developed under Southern institutions. The
affectionate relations existing between him and his servants,
and the bending of such a mind and heart to their good, are
the clearest proofs of the wickedness of those who are shed-
ding so much bloDd to destroy these ties. Another purpose of
this little tract is, to show the world, in this specimen among a
thousand of our Christian patriots, how high and holy are the
principles which nerve their arms in this war. There is here,
no lust of power, notoriety, or wealth; na unsanctifled revenge:
but the resolve of the virtuous soul, sadly, yet flraily accepting
the mournful alternative of resistance, rather than recreancgr

A MEMORIAL OF LTKUT. OOL JOHN T. THORNTON. 457

to dutj'. The enemies of our country, however they may con-
temn our material strength, may well tremble at the guilt of
the wholesale murders they perpetrate to crush this righteous
spirit of defense. It is the spirit of God's Word; it is sustained
and prompted, in its noblest instances, by his Holy Ghost. Do
they not see that, although God may chastise our ingratitude
and irreligion tawards him, by using their wicked hands as the
instruments 3f correction, they are fighting against him, and
their murders will yet be avenged in calamities so dire, that
both the ears of them that hear shall tingle?

But it is time to proceed directly to the narrative of Colonel
Thornton's religious life. His brief expressions of feeling must
be weighed by the reader with thi.s fact: that his character was
always marked iby a strong abhorrence of meaningless profes-
sians. He seems to have been, at the beginning of the war, not
a stranger to prayer; but the death of two brothers in rapid sue
cession, one of whom, a citizen of Texas, coming to Virginia
with the soldiers of that State, only reached Ricbmand to die,
profoundly deepened his religiaus emotions. October 18tli,
18C1, he writes from Camp Bethel, on the Peninsula :

"I feel sometimes very sad and solitary in this long al)
sence from you. The death ot.S**** stunned by its suddenness
and unexpectedness. I am left alone of all my brothers in this
Confederacy. » * » j ^ould draw closer to your side than
ever befDre.

"It is hard to bear my griefs alone; but I pray that I may
see clearly in these bereavements, the hand of a wise and mer-
ciful God. I try to believe that 'He doth not afflict willingly,
nor grieve the cliildren of men'; that 'though he cause grief, yet
will He have compassian according to the mulWtude of His ten-
der mercies.' But my skepticism is sometimes painful, and it
looks as though heaven were covered with a cloud through
which my .praj-ers could not pass."

The next extract which we make, may illustrate the ha-
bitual temper of his mind as to the issue of the war before him:

"Six O'clock P. M.
"Camp in Lee's Field, April 9M, 1862.

"We have now a large army in this Peninsula. Our men
are in fine spirits, and I look with confidence to the God of bat-
tles, to give us the victory. I pray he may be my shield in the

458 A UEUOHIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON.

hour of conflict. I have much to make life sweet to me. • • •
Let us implore humbly and earnestly the Father of mercies, who
has showered so many blessings on us, that he will guide us
through the perils of the dark hours of war, to the sunny,
bright days of peace."

June 1st, 1862, he writes, making a definite avowal of hiH
hope in Christ, and purpose to live a new life. After a tribute
to the Christian fidelity of her to whom the letter is addressed,
tender and glowing, he thus proceeds:

"This service in the army has not been without its bene-
fits, and as I trust, great, lasting, and eternal benefits, to me.
The busy, bustling life, that I had led ever since I left college,
until I left home for the war, gave me but little time for calm,
serious, sober thought on my past history and future life. In
the quiet of the outpost, in the stillness of the camp at night, in
the weary, solitary journeys to visit the chain of sentinels, I find
ample time for reflection. With no books to read, with no busi-
ness cares to engross or distract my attention, my mind hns
turned back upon myself, and often has the path I have trod
been traveled over again by me. Thoughts of you • • •'
restrained me from those vulgar vices of the camp, drinking
and card-playing. Thoughts of you * * *, kept back my
tongue from profanity, and then thoughts of the words you
had spoken and written to me * * *, and thoughts of the
goodness of G-od, and of my sins, and af my need as a sinner,
led me to seek salvation through the mercy of God, and the
atonement of Jesus. I trust * * *, that I truly believe,
and shall prove faithful to the end, and be an inheritor of the
promises

"If I am spared to return home, I trust that you and I
* * * will live through long years, to serve our Heavenly
Father who has been so kind to us, if such be his holy will. But
and honor and praise thee. Bless the children thou hast given
to us. Aid us to train them up in thy knowledge and in thy
fear, and to make them thy servants, pure, holy, and obedient.

"For my servants. Oh Lord God! I pray. Teach me how to
act as their master, and instruct them how to discharge their
duties as servants. Fill their hearts with love for thee; teach
them to shun all evil, to live purely and uprightly, and Anally
save them with an eternal salvation.

A MKMORTAL OF LITIUT. OOL JOHN T. THORNTON. 4f)9

"Into thy hands of love and mercy I trustingly commit my-
self, Oh Lord God Almighty. If it be in accordance with thy
wise and great purposes, I beseech thee, bear me safely through
all the perils of this war. Carry me back to my wife and home
and children; and make me faithful to thee, walking in thy
statutes, observing thy commandments, and honoring thee in
all pureness and holiness of living. But if. Oh Lord! according
to thy righteous decree, I am to fall by the hands of the enemy,
or to die from any cause, then I implore thee, Heavenly Father,
receive my soul, and take me to heaven to dwell forever in the
light of thy holiness.

"If I have asked. Oh Lord, any thing wrong, I pray thee,
forgive the evil thought, and blot out the wicked petition. If
my prayers are pure and right, I 'beseech thee in the name of
Jesus, and by reason of his death and sufferings, and because of
his merits, to answer them. Add, I pray thee. Heavenly Father,
every blessing on me and my household we are worthy tn re-
ceive; and to thee let all honor and glory be ascribed. Amen."

The following letter displays his Christian trust as to the
issues of the great struggle in which his country was engaged:
"Camp near Richmond, June 20fA, 1862.

"It is now within four days of a year, since I left you and
home to enter the army. It has been a year crowded with inci-
dents of most momentous importance to our State and Confed-
eracy; of events that will be read with interest for generations
to come, by the student of history and the statesman. It will
tell of a government erected by wise patriots, overthrown by
mad ambition, sectional hate, and unreasoning fanaticism. It
will tell of a powerful people summoned to arms to resist in-
vasion and subjugation. The nations of the earth have looked
with complacency upon the spectacle of a fierce and strong de-
mocracy, in a spirit of direst hate and meanest vengeance,
striving in every way to crush and subjugate a feeble people
who only ask to be let alone. This people, few in numbers
compared with their adversaries, with an inadequate supply of
arms and munitions of war. shut up from intercourse with any
portion of the world, have kept them at bay for one year, and
at the end of that time have forced them to call for a large in-
crease of their military force. It is true, we during this time
have sustained grievous reverses. In the future, we have sad

460 A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHCf T. THORNTON.

and severe trials before us. But Gtod in his mercy has 'borne
us up, and sustained us thus far, in our struggle for independ-
ence, and I have an albiding faith that he will crown u» in the
end with victory. I acknowledge with gratitude his merey to
me in this year of affliction. While so many have fallen around
me, from disease and the enemy, he has graciously given me
health and strength. He has mercifully protected you and our
dear children, and our servants, during these twelve months of
tribulations. Let us praise his holy name, and give thanks with
grateful souls, for his loving kindness and mercy. He is a
'God of comfort' to us, as St. Paul calls Mm. I do sincerely
pray that all this tender care of me may excite lively emotions
of piety in my soul, and may constrain me to unite in your
prayer that God will strengthen me and enable me to persevere
in the new life I am striving to lead."

June 25th, he writes :

"It is useless to speculate as to the :period when the war
will end. I hear opinions of various shades expressed. It is
still more idle to indulge in thoughts of what is to become of
you and me in the progress of the conflict. Our lives and for-
tunes are in the hands of an all-wise and merciful God, and we
must give our souls repose in the faith that he will do all things
for us better than we could for ourselves. This is the truest,
best, and firmest consolation we can have in these days of trou-
ble. When I can visit home, it is impossible for me to say.
How much I would like to drop in on you this morning, and see
y<fli with our children all around you. Let us trust such joy is
laid up in store for us, and without perplexing our hearts, look
forward to the future with confidence and courage. I doubt not,
your faith is firmer than mine; but by mutual encouragement,
we can strengthen the hearts of each other, to bear misfortune,
if it is sent upon us, or to receive with joy and gratitude what-
ever blessings may be vouchsafed."

July 4th, 1862, he thus announces the results of the cam-
paign before Richmond:

"The papers will give ^you an account of the triumphs
vouchsafed to our arms by God, in the late battles around Rich-
mond. He has mercifully protected me, but our loss in killed
and wounded is fearfully large. Our whole land will be clothed
in mourning. I pray God to console the bereaved hearts, and

A MEMORIAL OP LIEPT. COL. JOHN T THORNTON 461

to turn the charities of aJl our people upon those whose earthly
protectors have toeen taken from them."

The reader will udw be able to understand the allusion of
the following

PRAYER.

July Mh, 1862.

My Father in Heaven, I oome before thee this morning with
a song of praise and thanksgiving tav the victory thou hast
^ven us over our enemies. Oh Lord, thou hast heard the pray-
ers of thy people; their supplications and petitions have ascend-
ed to thy throne, and in the abundance of thy mercies thou
hast heard them and answered them, by granting to our arms a
triumph over lOur invaders. I feel and confess It is all from
thee. Lord God Almighty; and to thy holy and glorious name do
I ascribe all the praise. Continue, I pray thee, thy mercy and
kindness to us as a nation. Give wisdom from on high to our
rulers and generals, and all others in authority. Strengthen
the hearts of our soldiers, shield their heads, and with thy
strong arm bear up our banner in the conflict that is before us.
Confuse and confound the eounsels of our adversaries, drive
them from our territory, and compel them by thy providence,
to grant us a just and honorable peace. I pray thee. Oh Lord,
to send thy Holy Spirit into the hearts of our soldiers, and
make them soldiers of the Cross. Convert them to thy setvlce,
and make the people of the Confederate States a pious people,
whose Grod is the Lord. I pray thee Oh Lord, to be with the
sick and wounded of our army, in the hospitals and in the
camps; alleviate their sufferings, soothe their pains, turn their
hearts to thee, and bless tbem whether they live or die. I pray.
Oh God, for a blessing on the regiment in which I serve. Make
all connected with it godly men and brave soldiers. Grant
them grace to serve thee, and give them courage for the dis-
charge of every duty.

"I pray thee, Oh Lord, to forgive my sins, to wash away
my iniquities, to renew my heart. Pour upon me thy grace, so
that I may always do thy will. I pray, most merciful Father,
that thou wilt make me pure, give 'me strength to put away all
evil thoughts and impure desires, to resist all temptations and
wicked suggestions. Make me to love thee supremely, and to
prefer above all things else to do thy will, and to enjoy more

462 A MEMORIAL OF LIBDT. COL. JOHN T. THOSNTON.

than any other employment, thy holy service. Enable me, Oh
Father, to live near to thy Divine Son, my Redeemer, the Lord
Jesus Christ, the Saviour of men. Be thou. Oh San of God,
if, in his wisdom and justice and mercy, he determines other-
wise, and either of us be shortly taken from the other, then
may the other ibear the chastisement with meekness, and l3ok
forward to a reunion in God's own good time, on that blessed
shore, where adieus and farewells are sounds unknown. * *

* Kiss all the boys for me. Give my love to Mrs. ; I hope

she has recovered. Remember me kindly to the servants. Farr;-
well, * * ». May. God keep you and our dear children."

June 4th, 1862, he writes thus:

"Tell the dear boys I think often of them, and trust they
will be obedient to you, and industrious in their studies. I have
high hopes and expectations of our boys, and it would be a
mercy of God for which we should pray, that you and I may
be spared to see them reared to manhood, and to use our exer-
tions to lead them to the paths of piety and honor."

The same hopes are pursued in his next :

".Camp near Richmond, June 12(A, 1862.

"It is one of my earnest petitions to God, that if it be in
accordance with his wise decrees, he may spare you and me, to
train our dear boys under his guidance. I feel how weak and
feeble I am in the Christian life. I trust, with fear and trem-
bling, that my faith is sincere, and my hopes are well grounded.

Certainly I could not object to your telling our friend L , or

any other friend you might desire to talk with on the subject,
of my hope that my sins are pardoned, and that I am a true be-
liever. But, I do not wish you to be deceived as to the state of
my heart, and 1 know you would not deceive any one else. I
have sinned much and long. I try, with a sincere penitence, I
trust, to ask forgiveness of those sins from our Heavenly Fath-
er, by reason of the atonement made iby our loving Saviour,
whose righteousness I implore may be imputed to me. I feel
the risings of sin in my heart every day. I endeavor to drive
impure thoughts from my heart, to banish wicked words from
my tongue, and to keep my hands from unclean deeds, but de-
spite my striving, my prayers, my penitence, I sin. Conscious
of my guilt, praying for forgiveness, I am a poor, weak Chris-
tian. You must not then expect to see high 'Christian graces in

A MEMOKIAL OF LIUCT. OOL. JOHN T THORNTON. 463

me I hope, I trust, I pray for increase of faith. I try to he-
lieve and implore God to help my unbelief. I notice all j'ou
say in reference to conversation with old and tried Christians.
I should he rejoiced to have such friends to commune with, hut
I never could unveil my heart to any one except you; and even
now, I do not know how I could speak to any one of my desire
to be a Christian, of my communings with our Heavenly Father,
of my faith in our adorable Saviour, of my prayers for the in-
fluence of the Holy Ghost. You must he my guide » * *
in the Christian walk * * * and to you I must look for
advice and counsel. I pray that the war may end, and you
may take my hand in yours, and that we may pass along life's
journey, aiding and encouraging each other in all oor Ohnslian
duties."

About this time was written the first of these prayers which
has heen preserved; its date is June 10th. The hloody, but in-
decisive hattle of Seven Pines had then been fought. The vast
hosts of Federals were pressing close up to the beleaguered city.
The army of Jackson was seemingly involved past hope in those
complications of danger, from which it was soon to emerge in a
blaze of glory. Every where, the condition of the Confederacy
seemed to anxious patriots perilous, in the extreme. It was at
this juncture Colonel Thornton penned these devout and solemn
petitions:

A PRATER.

"I beseech and implore thee, merciful Father, to look down
with tender compassion on thy unworthy servant, to forgive his
sins, to strengthen his faith, to fill his heart with thy grace, to
shed upon his soul the influences of thy Holy Spirit; to give
him hodily strength and courage for the discharge of all his
duties, to illumine his mind with thy divine intelligence, to
guide his feet in the path of holiness, to deliver him from every
temptation that may assail him, to shield him from every as-
sault of man or devil, to maintain him in health of body and
purity of spirit, and finally to receive him in heaven, thy holy
dwelling place; there to live forever in the joy and delight of
thy presence.

"I pray thee, Oh God! to hlot out my sins. I feel how vile
and impure I am and have heen. I feel that I can find refuge
alone in the abundance of thy tender mercies: that nothing but

464 A MEMOBlAL or LlBtfT. OuL. JOHN T. THOKNTON.

ie blood of Jesus, our adorable Saviour can cleanse my vile
heart of its pollution. Under the shadow of thy mercy I seek
to hide: in the flood that flows from Calvary, I wash my soul.

"Preserve me. Oh Lord! from presumption, from a vain and
fooUsh reliance on my own strength, from a silly confidence in
the power and. efficacy of my own good works; cause me at all
times to know my folly and weakness; keep me continually
mindful that salvation is all of free, unmerited grace; and never
allow me for an instant to forget that the works of man, even
the best he can perform, are marked by folly, and stained with
guilt."

"In thy hands. Oh merciful Father, are the fortunes of imy
beloved State and Country. I recognize thy chastening hand in
the afflictions thou hast sent upon our land and upon our peo-
ple. Teach us all to submit with Christian humility to these
sad tribulations, to bear with Christian resignation these severe
trials, to bow ibeneath the rod, and with reverence to honor thu
hand that smites. In thine own appointed time, Oh God! thou
wilt deliver us from the hands of our enemies and of those who
hate us. Thou, Oh Lord! wilt, in thy good time, lead us by a
path that thou wilt open to our feet, to safety and independence.
Be thou. Oh Lord! our stay and our deliverance. In the day of
battle be with us; uphold our hands, strengthen our hearts, and
give us victory over our foes. Oh Lord! smite with thy right-
eous indignation the cruel invaders who now drive us from our
homes aiid besiege our capital. Send thy angel, armed with
the IBword of justice, to execute vengeance upon our cruel foes.
Make our army a holy instrument in thy hands, to punish the
insolent tyrants who are now endeavoring to subjugate our
people, to free our slaves, to confiscate our lands, and to take
from us all that in thy goodness, thou hast given us. Drive
the enemy. Oh Lord! from our soil. Give us, merciful Father,
the blessings of peace. Shed the influences of thy Holy Spirit
upon the hearts of our rulers and .people, upon the hearts of
the officers and privates of our army, and make us a God-fearing
nation, whose ruler is the great Jehovah. I implore thee. Oh
God! for thy blessing and especial favor on the regiment in
which I am serving. Make them pure and holy. Make them a
band of Christian warriors, who shall fight in thy strength.
Cover their heads in the hour of conflict; crown them with vie-

A MEMORIAL OV LIEtJT. COt. JOHN T. tflOKNTON. 465

tory over our Northern foes, and over the wiles and machina-
tions of the Evil One.

"I beseech thee, Heavenly Father, to guard and guide, and
console, and sustain, thy handmaiden and servant, the wife
whDm thou hast given me. Bless her. Oh Lord! at all times.
Write thy law upon her heart. Shield her from all evil, and
if it be thy holy will, unite her and myself once more, and per-
mit us together, as heads of a Christian family, in peace to serve
my elder Brother; thou hast atoned for my sins; hear my pray-
ers for forgiveness and acceptance to our Father, and bring me
back rich spiritual gifts. I pray thee, Oh Grod, to grant me
health of body and steadiness of purpose, and oool, deliberate
courage, and intelligence, to discharge all the duties of my po-
sition. Be with me in every trial : if thou wilt, shield me from
every danger; if it be thy will that I fall in battle, receive my
spirit, and take me to thy heavenly mansion, to dwell there
forever in peace and rest,, and joy and bliss, praising and serving
thee.

"Oh merciful Father, I implore thy blessing upon my be-
loved wife. Comfort, eonsole, and sustain her, I pray thee;
fill her heart with thy grace; give her strength sufficient for all
the severe labors she has to perform; grant her wisdom from
on high to discharge every duty. Reunite her and myself, and
let us through long years of peace, worship thee, and train our
children and servants in thy service. I pray thee. Heavenly
Father, to bless my children; and fill their tender hearts with
love for thee; make them thy children; make them thine Vy
election and adoption. Give their .parents wisdom and grace,
to train them for a heavenly inheritance. Bless my servants, I
implore thee, most merciful God. Enable me to instruct them
properly, and to govern them wisely. Make them thy servants,
zealous in every good work; and finally receive them to thyself
in heaven.

"I ask all these blessings in the name of my Saviour Jesus.
I offer these petitions in the name of thy Holy Son. Hear me,
and answer me. Oh God. Pour upon me every blessing thou
in thy mercy and loving kindness, wilt grant. Amen."

466 A UEUOBIAL OF LtBUT. OOL. JOHK T. THOBNTOK.
ANOTHER PRATER.

July 21j/, 1862.

"I approach thy throne, my Heavenly Father, this day, to
acknowledge the benefits with which, in thy loving kindness and
mercy, thou hast crowned me all the days of my life: to confess
my sins, to implore forgiveness, to ask for thy grace and the
influences of thy Holy Spirit; and to beseech thee to continue to
regard me with favor, to load me with blessings, and to grant
me courage of heart and strength of body to discharge rightly
and properly all the duties of my position. Oh God, wash me
cleain in the blood of thy Son, Christ Jesus, my Saviour. Let
me go to the cross, and live near to him who died that I may
live. Baise me from the grave to sit beside him who first rose
from the grave that he might show to men the way to heaven.
In his name I offer my petitions; through his intercession I ask
forgiveness; by reason of his sufferings and atonement, I ex-
pect salvation. I know tbat I am guilty, polluted, undone, and
ruined ; but I thank thee. Oh merciful Father, that on Calvary
thou didst open a fountain, in whose stream the vilest and filth-
iest sinner may wash his guilt away. To that fountain filled
with 'blood I would come, and cleanse my heart from every
stain. Pity, forgive, and save me. Lord God Almighty. I pray
thee, merciful Father, to shield me from all the perils that as-
sail my life^ from the pestilence that is abroad in the land, and
from the cruel enemy that has invaded, and is now ravaging
and destroying my State and Country. Be with me. Oh Lord
Gffd, at all times; shield me in the hour of conflict, and make
my hand strong to strike for truth, and justice, and right. Save
me, merciful Father, and restore me, when the war is over, and
thou hast sent peace on our land, to my home, my wife, my chil-
dren, and my servants.

"Bl' % guide, comfort, and console the wife thou hast giv-
en me, and the children that have been born of our marriage.
Beign and rule in their hearts. Make the mother skilful and
apt to teach her children thy law, and turn the hearts of the
children to do thy will. Beunite us, merciful Father, and up-
hold thy handmaiden and myself as the heads of a Christian
family, and our offspring and servants as its members, teach-
ing us all to love thy word and thy law, to live as becometh
them who are striving for a heavenly inheritance, and finally

A MEMOEIAL OP LIEOT. OOL. JOHN T. THORNTON. 467

receive us all into heaven, thy holy dwelling place, to praise
and honor and serve thee through all eternity.

"Oh Lord God! have mercy on my country, these Confed-
erate States, now struggling for salvation from tyranny and op-
pression, and seeking the rights thou hast given us as a nation,
through an agony of blood and suffering. I see, Oh God, the
desolations that mark the footsteps of our cruel enemy. Before
me are the naked fields, the ruins of the 'burned dwelling, and
far away from the fierce foe are the houseless and homeless
wanderers. These cruel tyrants boast of their large numbers,
their great wealth, and their power, vastly superior to that of
these poor States. They rely on the arm of flesh. ^ We trust in
thee. Oh Lord God Jehovah! Be thou our fortress and our de-
fense; God of battles, be with the soldiers of this Confederacy,
and give them victory; God of truth and justice, reign in the
hearts of the people all over the land; God of wisdom, illumine
the minds of our rulers and oflicers; God of mercy, give us
peace; God of nations, give us independence; and to thy name
be all honor and glory, forever and ever. Amen."

July 22nd, 1862, he wrote from the region of the Pamun-
key, a letter well describing the principles which made him
resolute in enduring, without any ambitious aspirations, a sep-
aration so irksome to his soul.

"I am amused at the delight you so heartily manifest, at
my not meeting the enemy, who were reported as crossing into
King William. You say you cannot wish me any opportunity
of distinction where my life will be placed in jeopardy. In re-
ply I would say, that I only desire to do my duty. I have no
thirst for military fame; for I know it is won through bloud
and tears and suffering. But I do desire to aid in driving the
base invader from Virginia's soil. I am amazed that men can
sit quietly at home, when they see the fate that awaits us if
the enemy succeeds in subjugating us. I am sitting now, as I
write, in full view of what was, before the invasion, one of the
loveliest estates in Virginia. It is now a scene of desolation;
the fields are naked, the fences destroyed, the houses burned,
the laborers stolen away, and the owners fugitives, and, if this
were all their wealth, beggars."

His remaining letters, written on the march from lower
Virginia to Manassas and Maryland, were little more than

468 A MBMOBIAL OF LIBUT. OOL. JOHW T. THOENTON.

brief notes, penned in moments snatched from the fatigues of
the journey. But in all of them, his yearnings for the society
of his beloved home were mingled with prayers for faith aod
strength to bear his lot with fortitude. The last specimen of
.pmyer which he left is incomplete. Perhaps the bugle-call
summoned him away from the solemn and pleasing communion
of the mercy seat, to the march or the com'bat.

THE LAST PRAYER.

July 27th, 1862.

"I oome before thee. Oh Lord God Alnughty, on this thy
holy day, to thank thee for the many mercies I have received
from thy loving hand, and for the protection thou hast here-
tofore afforded me; to ask that thou wilt not withdraw thy
mercy, favor, and protection from me, but wilt continue to
crown me with (blessings, and shield me from all assaults of
the world, the flesh, and the Devil. I come to implore the for-
giveness of my sins, pardon for all my guilt, and eternal salva-
tion for my soul, through the merits and intercession of thine
adorable Son Christ Jesus. I come to praise thee for the loving
kindness and tender (impassion which, at such a cost, and at
such a sacrifice, furnished a way of escape for guilty man. Oh
Lord! I would live near to thy Son Christ Jesus, our Lord and
Saviour. I pray thee to give 'me grace, to illumine my under-
standing, to fill my heart with love, to make thy service my de-
lightful work, and obedience to thy law my most pleasant duty.
Save me, I beseech thee, from vain-glorying, from boasting,
from self-reliance, "

Thus the expression of his longings for holiness were brok-
en off unfinished, like his life. But his friends may trust that
his life, so full of promise here was but the infancy of a far more
blessed and glorious existence in that heaven to which he as-
pired; and so, that these acts of worship, interrupted here below
are now continued with a nobler, sweeter tongue, and with
higher raptures, where there are no wars nor rumors of wars
to disturb the saints, in the heavenly Sabbath.

These mementoes exhibit, so far as a brief Christian life
of less than a year could, the renewing power of the religion
of Jesus Christ, in a high degree. The scriptural tone of the
petitions shows, in one so young in divine knowledge, the evi-
dent teachings of the Holy Ghost. The change in Colonel

A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. OOL. JOHIT T. THORNTON. 469

Thornton's character was marked. He was, by nature, a proud
spirit; we here find his prayers breathing the most profound hu-
mility. His character was usually apprehended to ^be stern;
these exercises of soul are instinct with a melting tenderness,
for all, except the enemies of righteousness. This attempt to
display his inner life is. now closed, with the earnest prayer,
that Grod may incline the hearts of all his friends and com*-
rades, and lof every brave soldier of our country, to seek his
Saviour, to imitate Ms example so far as he was a folbwer of
Jesus Christ, and to raise to the throne of grace, these, or such-
like prayers.

NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE/

"And the eates of hell shall not prevail against it."
There are some things which can he done, and there are
some others which obviously cannot. The curious thing about
this very trite fact is, that people continue trying to do these
other thijigs, as though they were feasible. This they do both
in the mechanical and moral world. Thus: there are same peo-
ple always, who are inventing perpetugl motion, and just on
the point of eftecting it. Many and diverse, says the Scientific
American, are the machines invented for this purpose; but it
recommends to all future experimenters, as the cheapest and
simplest, and equally effective with the best, the plain tub.
The machine of the tub is operated thus. The vessel chosen is
a large one, with handles. It is placed on the floor; the opera-
tor then gets into it, and laying hold of the handles with his
hands, lifts the tub up to the ceiling. Succeeding in this, he
has perpetual motion in its simplest principle.

In every generation, the social, political, and religious tub-
lifters are numerous. "Mother Anna Lee," patron saint of the
Shakers, was going to abolish sin by abolishing matrimony.
The'plan was simple, and perfectly effectual. Convert all the
adult sinners, and agree that when converted they shall have
no more children. As all actual transgression comes out of
original sin, and all original sin is transmitted by birth, one
generation more would happily finish the work of Satan on
earth. The good mother only made one little mistake m the
project. Who were to carry out this excellent plan? The men
and women, of course. But men and wwmen usually have a
natural propensity, which is more fundamental and regulative
than the desire tw arrest original sin. So it turns out that poor
human nature doesn't lift itself in Mother Lee's tub;-but goes
on multiplying and increasing, and replenishing the earth with

1 Prom the Stvi rort InAtpenient. 470

NATURE CANNOT RBVOLUTIONIZE NATURB 471

young sinners; leaving tlie world's redemption to the less sym-
metrical plan of the Grospel.

So Mr. John Stuart Mill proved to his own satisfaction
that all individual title to real estate is adverse to the public
weal; and the "International" communists, going a little far-
ther, declare, La propnete c'est It crime! "Establish commun-
ity d goods; and public spirit will make the best of everything,
and procure the greatest good to the greatest number." Here
again, man is to lift himself in Ms tub. It is forgotten that
nature has made the desire for the special welfare of one's self,
and of one's own family, far stronger than the desire for the
general good. Hence the only possible result of the theory is,
not that private property shall be happily substitutef" ^y com-
munism; but that happy civilized societies may be plunged into
anarchy; and what little private property is left be held with
a far fiercer grasp, and defended by personal violence instead
of by regulated and benignant law. Natural selfishness will
never lift itself into disinterestedness, least of all by force of an
infidel creed which makes selfish pleasure its summum bonum.

Another instance of the tu!b-movement is seen in Mrs. Cady
Stanton's "Women's Rights." Woman is to be freed from her
subordination to man! By whom, forsooth? Not by the sel-
fish, masculine despot, of course; for every impulse of his sel-
fishness prompts him to perpetuate the tyranny. It is to be
done, then, by woman. She is to make herself independent of
man! But the Creator, who made men and wDmen, has laid
down the law, "Unto him shall be thy desire," as the founda-
tion of woman's nature. So that the amount of the claim for
women's rights is, again, that the inventor shall lift herself in
her tub. Were the realizing of the revolution the only danger,
men might safely give Mrs. Cady Stanton their full leave to
succeed. She would then find that her real difficulty was un-
surmounted; that every one of her "oppressed" sisters, who was
a true woman, would voluntarily desert her and seek to be be-
loved, cherished, and protected by one of the masculine "ty-
rants"; and this by the inevitable force of a nature a thou-
sandfold m3re imperative than her zeal for Mrs. Cady Stan-
ton's revolution. And hence again, the only possible result of
this movement will be, not the independence and equality of
woman, but the aubstitutioD of the savage dependence of the

472 NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATUEE

slave-ooncubine, the "weaker vessel" held and abused by brute
force, for the benignant order of scriptural marriage.

These attempts to do the Impossible illustrate the most ab-
surd enterprise of all: the attempt of our modern materialistic
infidels to abolish religion. The Commune shouted, "Down
with property and religiDn, the two chief enemies of human
progress." The only result of success in destroying religion
would be to replace it with S'Ome mischievous superstition.
This is sufficiently evinced, to any sober mind, by a review of the
past. Every people, in every age, has had eitjier its religion or
its superstition; either its God "or its Fetich. Now, a universal
result is -an index of a permanent cause: there must be some-
thing in human nature which compels it to recognize the su-
pernatural. When our would-be philosophers assume that they
can exist without this necessity, it is only the very modest pre-
tension that they are themselves supernatural; that is, more
than men. That religion is inevitable to man may be inferred
again from the uniform result of every attempt which has been
made to exclude, or even to omit it from human thought and
life. They have always been predestined failures. Thus, those
who profess to understand the system of Confucius, nominally
so dominant in China, tell us that it is not really a religion, but
a SDcial system of morals; that it offers the Chinese mind no
object of divine homage save an abstraction; and that it is in
fact only a system of moral rules enforcing the idea of civic
subordination ; the only worship inculcated, that of dead ances-
tors, being designed merely to strengthen the impulse of filial
respect. What now, is the result? There is no people who
malte a more frequent recognition of the supernatural. To say
nothing of the vast system of Buddhism, the whole nation seems
enslaved to demon worship, and to the bondage of "the evil
eye," "the influence," and the genii of iDcalities. Yet the
Chinese are at once the most astute and the most materialistic
of the Oriental races.

But we may come nearer home. The materialist Thomas
Hobbes, of Malmesbury, was said to be more afraid of ghosts
than any educated man in England. Atheistic French Democ-
racy professed to abrogate God, the Church, and the Sabbath;
but so strong was the religious necessity, that even these mad-
men enthroned the "Goddess of Reason." Auguste Comte spent

NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE. 473

his life in teaching that his "Positive Philosophy" necessarily
excluded every supernatural notion. But at its close he finish-
ed by establishing a new religion, and a praposed hierarchy with
Comte as its hierophant, and the soul of his deceased mistress
as a sort of "Queen of Heaven."

These facts may be set in a light still more mortifying to
the enemies of Christianity, and more conclusive against their
hopes. The weakest religions have always been strong enough
to outvie infidelity upon a fair trial. What has it then to hope,
in the presence of a true Christianity, with its purity and pow-
er? Even popery, the fruitful mother of infidels, has Saturu-
ian strength enough to devour these, her own children. Frencli
popery begot Voltaire; and so sorry a religion as French popery
was adequate to overthrDw Voltaireism. We are told that the
effect of national misfortune and humiliation has been to fill
the Romish Church again with Frenchmen (and not women
onlj-), and to precipitate the people into sham miracles, the pil-
grimages, and the other fooleries of the Middle Ages. The Au-
gustan age of classic paganism gave a similar result. Greek
and Roman philosophy deemed itself too wise to retain the old
traditionary creed of their fathers. They could laugh at the
auspices, and explode Pan and Ceres, Castor and Pollux, with
the herd of imaginary gods. But none the less must the Au-
gustan age have gods from some whither; so philosophic Athens
had its altar to "The Unknown God," and imperial Rome im-
ported Judaism, the mystery of the Egyptian Iris, and the mag-
ic of the East. Now, gentlemen infidels, we may heartily concur
with you in your scurvy estimate of these ancient and modern
paganisms, the religions of Jupiter and the Pope. But we re-
mind you, that scurvy as they were, they were suflScient to con-
quer you. "If these things were done in the green tree, what
shall be done in the dry?" If mankind is compelled by the con-
stitution of the soul, in ages when it seemed to have no better
choice than between these wretched creeds and you, to prefer
either of these to you; what are your prospects against the uni-
versal diffusion of the Christian religion, with its ennobling and
satisfying truths?

The rational account of these results is in the law with
which we set out. Nature cannot revolutionize nature. The
human soul has certain original, constitutive, universal laws

474 NATUKB CANNOT BBVOLUTIONIZE NATUBE.

of thinking and feeling, the presence of which qualify it as a
rational human soul. Hence, whatever any soul thinks or feels
is a result of these regulative laws. It is, then, infallibly cer-
tain that these cannot be abrogated or expunged by their own
results, for the same reason that streams cannot change their
own fountains, and children cannot determine the being of their
own parents. Let men, for instance, throw any light of plausibil-
ity they may around materialism; let them please themselves
with the fancy that they have identified mind with matter; let
the physiologist pretend to trace the ipower of thought into his
"nerve-force," and to resolve this in turn into electricity. There
remains still the stubborn and fundamental fact of psychology,
which the common sense of men will, in the end, always con
strue for themselves, without or against the pretended helps of
science; that the consciousness of that which thinks, the sub-
jective Ego, is necessarily prior to all possible perception of
objective matter. So that the only terms upon which man can
know matter at all involve a priori the recognition of mind as
inevitably contrasted with matter. That is, the very law of our
cognition is, that we must first know mind as not matter
in order to know matter.

Our most recent infidelity asserts that nothing is valid ei
cept that which is formed on the perceptions of the senses. But
unless they accept with us the supersensuous rational belief,
that what sense gives us is valid, it is impossible for sense it-
self to show them any truth.

•Again, man must cease to be man before he can strip him-
self of conscience, of the conviction of moral responsibility, of
the sense of guilt for transgression, of hope, of fear, and of the
inextinguishable desire for his own well-lbeing. These senti-
ments are the universal results of fundamental intuitions. All
that can be done is to forget them or to obscure them for a
time; but when they are revived by the touch of affliction, dan-
ger, remorse, or death, man will derive and seek a propitiation
for his guilt, a preparation for judgment, and a way to future
happiness, as surely as he is man. The sentiment of religion is
omnipotent in the end. We might rest in assurance of its tri-
umph, even without appealing to the work of that Holy Ghost
which Christianity promises as the" omnipotent coadjutor of the
truth. While irreligious men of science explore the facts of

NATTTRB CANNOT REVOLtTTIONIZK NATtTRE. 475

natural history, and the fossils of earthly strata, for fancied
proofs of a creation by eTolution which may dispense with a
Creator, the humble heralds of our Lord Christ will continue to
lay their hands upon the heart-strings of living immortal men,
and find there always forces to overwhelm unbelief with de-
feat. Does the "Positivist" say these propositions are only of
things spiritual? Ay, but spiritual consciousnesses are more
stable than all his primitive granite! Centuries hence, if man
shall continue in his present state so long, when the current
theories of unbelief shall have been consigned' to that limbus
where polytheism and the Ptolemaic astronomy, alchemy, and
judicial astrology lie contemned, the servants of the Cross will
be winning larger and yet larger victories for Christ, with the
same Gosipel which was preached by Enoch, Noah, Abraham,
Moses, Isaiah, Paul, Augustine and Calvin.
Hampden Sidney, Va., Oct. 1st, 1873.

SAMUEL C. ANDERSON. OF PRINCE EDWARD.!

Every Presbyterian of intelligence, who visited the neigh-
borhood of Hampden Sidney aflbout the years 1835 to 1840, car-
ried away with him, among his most pleasing recollections, the
memories ot the hospitable mansion of Mr. Anderson. He was
then in the prime of his corporeal and intellectual powers, and
of his Christian influence: a leading elder in the College
Church, and trustee of the College, the foremost advocate at
the har of his county; and the honored and trusted adviser of
its people. His house during all these years, was frequented
with delight ^by young and old, and was the center of a wide
circle of cultivated. Christian society; where Mr. Anderson, as-
sisted hy his accomplished wife, and his lovely adopted daugh-
ter, dispensed a professional income almost princely, in un-
hounded hospitalities and charities. His noble person and
countenance will not speedily he forgotten by any, who saw
him in the animation of social converse, or in the flow of his
masculine and impetuous oratory. He was, in every sense, a
man of nature's nohlest mould.

Amidst the horrors and confusions attending the closing
campaign of General Lee upon the Appomattox, the death of
this venerahle servant of Giod has perhaps passed unnoted hy
many of his former friends. The suspension of the circulation
of the religious journals has also delayed the publication of
the usual trihute to his memory. This will now he attempted,
in the form of a hrief narrative.

Mr. Anderson was the son of a respectable planter upon
Willis' River, in the county of Cumberland, where he was horn
July 21st, 1788. Up to approaching manhood, he received only
the plain education of the old-fleld-school : when he was seized
with an irresistible desire for a liberal education. There was an
excellent classical school six or seven miles distant; hut his
father declared that, while he might ^be able to pay his tuition,

1 Appeared in The Pnttyterian Quarter!]/, April, 1894. W6

SAMUEL 0. ANDERSON. 477

his limited circumstances forbade his assuming the expense of
his boarding abroad. The youth declared that he would fre-
quent the school daily from home, notwithstanding the dis-
tance. His father supposed that he would soon weary of this
undertaking, but gave his consent t9 the experiment. He joy-
fully accepted the opportunity; and for several years was the-
most punctual pupil at the school. Taking his breakfast with
the dawn, he might be seen every morning before the suUj set-
ting out afoot upon his daily journey, and he was usually the
first scholar at the school-house. Here he gained a s9lid train-
ing in the classics, and some of the rudiments of science; and
this was tb«! only patrimony he ever received from his father.

While still a, youth, he went to the county of Powhatan,
where for four years he taught a country schDol. In this avoca
tion his success was so great, that old Dr. Lacy (Silver-fist),
himself a famous teacher, declared he ought to be compelled
to follow it for life, for the public good. His talent of com
mand and force of character were here strongly developed. His
diligence ?ind punctuality were unfailing, and such was the in-
dustry and subordination he inspired, that a lazy or bad boy
was unknown in his school. After the good, old Virginian
fashion, the "boys and girls of the neighborhood were taught to-
gether: a custom which did much to foster that courtesy, mii
tual respect, and purity, which so highly distinguished the in-
tercourse of the sexes among us. In these schools, under the
eye of a watchful teacher, the young learned from childhood
the proper "metes and bounds" of virtuous intercourse, amil
grew up from little gentlemen and ladies. Mr. Anderson was
peculiarly watchful in guarding this intercourse, and exacting
of the 'boys a punctilious respect for their female associates.
He said that the greatest whipping he ever gave, was to a
gawky youth (as big as himself) for entering the school-room
on a sultry afternoon, without his C9at (clothed in the other
garments, shirt, vest, trousers, etc.)

Having served two campaigns with credit in the State
forces, during the war of 1812, he returned to civil life, and
studied the science of law with Captain Henry E. Watkins, of
Prince Edward, his life-long friend, and co-elder. He com-
menced the practice of this profession in the year 1816, at
Prince Edward Court House. Here he married, settled, and

478 SAMUEL 0. ANDERSON.

spent his life. His diligence, integrity, and forensic eloquence
speedily raised him to the head of his profession : a post which
he did not fail to maintain, to the end of his active life. As a
lawyer, he was quick, ready, full of resource in ielhsite, impa-
tient of the labor of preliminarj'- research, but overp3wering in
rejoinder. His generous sympathies and ardent nature caused
him to identify himself warmly with his clients: so that he was
always a zealous advocate. His comrades, knowing the influ-
ence of forensic strife in rousing his powers, and the force of
his oratory upon juries, always sought to give him the closing
speech in important cases. Th* best judges have said that, in
those years, Samuel C. Anderson, in the bar of Prince Edward
or Buckingham, exposing some artful fraud, or pleading the
aspersed honor of innocent woman, was the noblest specimen
of manly beauty, power, and eloquence, ever seen in that re-
gion.

Upon the retirement of John Randolph, of Roanoke, from
Congress, the leading citizens of his party urged Mr. Anderson
to become a candidate for that place, with the certainty of be-
ing elected his successor. He declined the proposal, in favor
of Judge Bouldin; who served for a short time with great dis-
tinction, and died in his seat in the House, of apoplexy. The
reason assigned by Mr. Anderson for refusing political honors
at that time, was worthy of the consideration of every young
man. He said that he had a liberal professional income, with
free and hospitable habits of living, without private estate.
Hence, as his attention to public affairs must diminish his earn-
ings, he could not at once maintain his domestic establishment,
and his pecuniary independence. But no man, he judged,
should be entrusted with the interests of his country, whose
l)ersonal independence was encumbered with any financial
shackles : lest they should become a temptation to tarnish that
bright purity of action, which the public servant should ever
possess.

In the year 1828 the visit of Dr. Nettleton to Virginia oc-
curred, which resulted in so remarkable and permanent a work
of grace. On the invitation of Dr. John H. Rice, this eloquent
and holy man visited the region about the College; and his la-
bors were instrumental in bringing into the church a large
number of the first men of the country, of whom many have

SAMUEL 0. ANDBRSON. 479

fallen asleep; but some yet remain to adorn their profession.
Among these converts was Mr. Anderson. He had lived hith-
erto, strictly honorable and virtuous after the WDrld's standard,
but "without God in the world," and in the very luxuriance of
his health, prosperity, and manly energies. The word of God
now took hold upon him with giant power. He declared that al-
though, in one sense, he had heard many able preachers, whose
sermons his retentive memory would have enabled him to re-
peat almost entire, in another sense, he had never heard a ser-
mon before. The nature of God's law, his relations to it, and
his wants as a sinner, were now seen by him in as new a light,
as though he had been hitherto one of Paul's Athenian hearers
upon Areopagus. With an overpowering conviction of his
guilt and misery fixed in his soul, he determined that he would
at once seek its salvation with all his might. Dr. Nettleton was
holding private meetings for special instruction, in the parlor
of Dr. Eice (in the northeastern corner of the Seminary build-
ing, then just partly erected) similar to what are now called in-
quiry-meetings : and all those who desired more particular
knowledge of 'what they must do to 'be' saved,' were invited to
attend there in the evening. Many powerful impulses of pride
and false shame deterred Mr. Anderson from attending. The
evil principles within him pleaded: "What will your gay, pro-
fessional comrades say, when they hear that the lofty head of
Samuel C. Anderson is bowed in such a meeting, amidst a clus-
ter of weeping school-boys and girls, confessing his sins to a
parson?" As he rode to the place, his breast was in a tumult«of
strife; and when he came to the door of the room, saw the lights
within, and the solemn stillness of the company, so powerful
was the struggle between the evil and the good within him,
that, he declared, it was as though some invisible, 'but adaman-
tine bar had been placed across the door of the room, which re-
sisted his entrance with a palpable force. But he bethought
himself that this reluctance to enter was prompted by sinful
affections, seconded most probably by Satan : that he needed the
instruction he sought there; and that if he now yielded to a
false impulse, and retired, it would be a virtual turning of his
back upon Christ and duty, for the sake of sin, and might be
the sealing of his impenitence forever. He therefore nerved
himself with an almost desperate resolve, and literally broke

480 SAMUEL 0. ANDERSON.

through into the room, where he took his seat among the peni-
tents. This decisive moment seemed to be the turning point
with his soul, and he speedily found peace in believing. The
determination to cast all sinful and Satanic obstacles behind
him, in pursuing those means of grace which he felt to be ap-
propriate to his wants and duty, was probably nothing else
than the initial acting of faith and repentance, in embracing
Christ, and his service: although at first he knew it not as such.
He soon enrolled himself among Grod's people; and such was
his Christian walk, that after a few years, he was elected one
of their elders: an office which he filled with increasing pietv
to his death.

His abilities and decision speedily made Mm a man of
mark in the Presbyterian Ohurch. He cultivated an ardent
friendship for her leading ministers, and especially for Drs.
Rice and Baxter, whose steady coadjutor and adviser he was,
in all their labors for Zion. With his usual liberality, he now
set ajwrt one-third of his income, the whole of which proceed-
ed from his professional labor, for the service of the church;
and during his prosperous years, this portion was expended in
charities, in sus.taining the religious press, and in other Chris-
tian enterprises, besides the sums lavished in his unfailing hos-
pitalities.

The most signal service which he rendered to the church,
in the estimation of the public at large, was has famous speech
in the Assembly of 1837, in spport of the, so-called, excinding
act». Dr. Baxter and he were among the commissioners from
West Hanover Presbytery to that body: in which the former
was the acknowledged leader of the old school. It was in Bax-
ter's capacious mind that the plan originated, after all other
expedients seemed hopeless, of ridding the church of the incu-
bus of the new measures and theology, by declaring the Plan
of Union unconstitutdonal. During the seseioms of the Assem-
bly he came to Mr. Anderson and asked him briefly: "If a leg-
islative proceeding be found unconstitutional, what 'becomes
of the executive and administrative acts which are grounded
on it?" "They are all," said Mr. Amderson, "null and void, in
law." "Then," said Dr. Baxter, "prepare yourself to prove it
in the Assembly." The doctor, having exiplained his views to
the old^ichool men, in their nightly convention, or caucus,

SAUaXL 0. ANDEBSON. 481

moved them the next day, in the bouse, in a short series of
propositions, whose logic was built together like an arch of
stone; and them remitted the discussion mainly to younger and
more forward men.. The, chief debaters of the two parties now
waged, for several days, a forensic war of the giants. The New
School relied upon an elder from Pennsylvania, who was also
a distinguished judge at law, to assail the legal principles of
Dr. Baxter's plan. Mr.. Anderson went to him, and politely
indicated his wish to take part in the discussion on the other
side, requesting the use of the legal authorities intiwduced into
the'caSe. This the judge politely accorded; and it may be added
'that, in the subsequent discussion, the two maintained towards
each other a forensic qourtesy, by which the acrimony of many
of the clergy was put to shame. The judge also suggested that
Mr. Andersion, if he could succeed in getting the floor in the
general eagerness to speak, at the end of his speech, should
make the closing reply. The latter could not but indulge an in-
ward staile, as he said. to himself: "Had you known the, esti-
mate of toy peculiar forte held by my legal brethren at home,
you would hardly have volunteered this proposal." The judge,
with the customary self-esteem of his section, evidently regard-
ed his proposed antagonist from the Sonth, as'lhie reverse of
formida'ble.

Meantime, the clerical leaders of the Old School, had laid
out their parliamentary tactics for the day, designing to put
up one of their leading debaters to reply to the legal argument
of the jildge, and selecting an active man, at the close of th'at
speech, to spring to his feet, secure the floor, and demand the
previous question. But when the judge finished, to their great
chagrin, Mr. Anderson obtained the floor, instead of their cham-
pion. Their faces showed mortification; those of the larger
number displayed wonder, who this unknown combatant could
be who thus thrust himself int» the war of the princes; and
Dr. Baxter, who knew his man, was suffused with a smile of
quiet enjoyment. When Mr. Anderson found that the Mod-
erator had recognized him, ail his self-possession for a moment
deserted, him: He, who was perfectly collected in the stormier
forums of the bar and hustings, now found himself without a
single idea, in this novel arena, before the vast audience col-
lected from every part of the Union, and especially at the

43d SAHtTEL 0. ANDXBBON.

thought of the anxious and sympathizing countenance of his
beloved wife, which he well knew, was 'bent upon him from
some retired nook of the galleries. But he said that he be-
thought himself to fill up a minute with some commonplaces
about his respect for the Moderator and the body, and his dif-
fidence, until his self-posaessdon returned to him: and after this
exordium, he was conscious that he had regained the full poise
of all his faculties. As be proceeded in his rejoinder, the im-
patience of the house .was replaced by surprise, and by delight.
Whispers of, "Who is he?" "Who is he?" ran over the au-
dience. He proceeded, with just such vigorous and courteous
logic as he was accustomed to employ in the courts of Virginia,
intermingled with happy repartee and luxuriant humor, to turn
the legal argument of the New School inside out, to overthrow
their positions with their own authorities, and to sweep away
their arguments, like the wind the chaff of the threshing floor.
It was manifest that he waa making a profound impressioii on
the house, ajid that hds argument must be decisive of the vote.
Dr. Absalom Peters, the Ajax of the New School, writhing
like a culprit upon the rack, at the demolition of his cause,
could contain himself no longer; but springing to his feet in-
terrupted Mr. Anderson, and announcing again a position which
he seemed to regard as the very citadel of his strength, said
tauntingly, "I should like to hear the gentleman come to that
topic." "I shall come to that, soon enough for you," replied he,
shaking has finger at ham in acceptan'ce of his challenge. His
Old School friends almost held their breaths with anxiety, as
they said to themselves: "Will his performance 'be, indeed,
able to come up to this audacious pledge?" But when, in the
regular order of his reply, he reached the favorite premise of
Dr. Peters, he exploded it with a happy power, and clear light,
which formed the Climax of his victory, and silenced his ad-
versary effectually. Meantime he took occasion to exact of Dr.
Peters a good natured revenge for his discourtesy. Seeing him
anxiously fum'bling a law-fbook introduced by the judge, and
by Mm promised to Mr^ Anderson, he reached his hand for it,
saying in a sotto-voce audible to the whole house: 'KSdve it
me: raw hands ought not to meddle with edged tools." At this,
the inimitable humor of his expressive countenance convulsed
the audience with laughter.

SAMtfuL d. Ai^DiiBsoit. 483

When he closed his remarks, the person selected by the
Old School to ask the previous question, felt that no other ar-
gument oould Tbe so effective, and at oace performed his ap-
pointed task. The house was apparently satisfied also: the
call was graated, and the majority which voted with the Old
School showed, that Mr. Anderson had decided every mind
which wavered. All, except Virginians, were startled and
amazed at this display of his powers. The Northern people
aibout tfhe AssemWy, espedally, asked themselves: How comes
it that this great master of debate has been hitherto umheard
of by us? They said, has powers, like those of PaiUas, must
have sprung at one leap from their infancy to their adult vigor.
But this was all mistaken. 'Mr. Anderson now exhibited no
other powers, than those which, in his happier occasions, Ms
compeers were often accustomed to witness in him at the bar
of Prince Edward. In this ecclesiastical debate, he had a sub-
ject cuited to his faculties and taste: a great principle of con-
stitutional law. His mastery over it, and the amazing contrast
between his handling of it and that of his Northern adversaries,,
was 'but an illustration of the superior civic culture prevalent
among the gentlemen of Virginia, and, yet more, of their deep-
er .veneration for constitutional bonds.

This interesting incident has been described at this
length, only because of its eclat without his own circle. In
the Synod of Virginia, he sustained the reforms of 1837, with
equal eloquence. For a number of years, indeed, as long as
health allowed, he was an interested and influential member
of church courts in his own State, and his helping hand was in
every good work. Thus he passed along for fifteen years more,
busy in his laborious profession, and frequently charged with
public trusts for church and State.

About the year 1852, his roibust frame was shattered by
an attack of paralysis. For a time, he lay motionless, and in-
capable of speech, and, as others supposed, unconscious. But
he said afterwards, that the sense of hearing, the powers of
thought, and the sensibility to pain, were even unnaturally ac-
tive: and at the very moment that he heard the anxious friends
around his bed congratulating him on this sad advantage, that
he was at least insensible to suffering, he was enduring not only
bodily pain, but a wringing of the nerves unspeakably more

484 SAMnil. 0. ANDERSON.

agonizing than mere pain. His experience suggests- the trtith,
Which nurses.^nd.ministers' Of religion should bear in mind',
that oftentimes consciousness and the powers i of attention are
awake in the.^ick, where they have the ability to "give no sign;"
Had the consolations of 'religion been addressed to.'Mr. Ander-
son at that hpur, he wOuld' have appreciated them fully, al-
though utterly unable to signify it, by voice, or motion of an
eyelid, or a muscle. ■ This alaJming disease was, however, ar-
rested, and by virtue of his tein,perance and panity of constitu-
tion, it left nQ after-consequelices, except a tremor of the
hands, which gradually grew with the advances of age.

Mr. Anderson at onde felt this, as a. distinct summons to
"set his housp in-order."- Be did' not demit £^^y, of the active
duties of life; but anticipating some sudden return of' his mal-
ady, he made his aocount to dife with his harness on.. Yet therfe
was a great increase of the depth, tenderness, and devotion' of
his Christian, .character. -He still frequented, as before, the old
law office, in the. corner'of his shrubbery, which, had for so long
been the scene of active bustle, and the haunt, of a throng of
clients. But his tremulous hand' refused even to write a legal
instrument: and the laborious duties of his profession were
turned over to a young kinsman, who had become his partner,
afterwards known and lamented, a^ the distinguished Colonel
John S. Thornton.' Those Who visited Mr. Anderson, in thefie
later years, in his office, Were almost sure to flnd him reading
his old quarto Bible. 'This' became the con,stant, the almost ex-
clueive occupation of his leisure. Pencil in, hand, he dwelt de-
liberately upon each- clause, signifying his appreciation of those
which struck him as peculiaTly weighty, by a broad mark
drawn underneath. Going oVer his !l^ible thus, again and again,
it gradually became blackened all over with these marks, to ah
almost incredible extent. This old Bible, is now treasured up,
as a curious and affecting memorial of his diligehce in the study
of the Word. The maturing of grace in his character was also
most marked in his prayers, at the domestic altar, and in the
prayer meetings of the church, which he so much loved to fre-
quent, as long as his infirmities allowed. His devotions were
peculiar for the profound, and yet triumphant tone of rever-
ence and adoration, and the holy importunity, which pervaded
them more and more. To every spiritually-minded Christian,

SAMUBL C. ANDERSON. 485

it was a treat, a refreshment, to hear Mr. Anderson lead in
prayer.

When his infirmities increased,, a transaction' occurred he-
tween him and his law-partner, Mr. Thornton, equally honorable
to 'both. He had taken this young kinsman, into his oflSce when
he was first licensed; and he had rapidly grown into high favor
with the people.' Mr. Anderson now volunteered to declare to
him, that their partnership must be dissolved. "I am but a
burden to yoii now;" he added. "You do all the work, and en-
dure the hardships: you are virtually supporting my family, as
well as yo.ur own; ahd it is not just that I should allow you to
burdenyourself vvith such an incubus, in your ascending career.
You must set up for yourself, so as. tQ a,dvance unimpeded by
me." When Mr. Anderson proposed, thiSy.he well kn6w that
its execution would consign him almost to penury: for his gen-
erous and almost profuse spirit had left him no accumulations
from his years of arduous labor. But Mr. 'Thornton positively
refused to accede to the dissolution of the partnership ; utging
that Mr. Anderson's present enjoyment of the moiety of the
earnings of the firm was but a just retumfor his princely gen-
erosity, in according to him the same share, at the (beginning ;
when he was but a stripling, without professional patronage
or experience; and that, if Mr. Anderson no longer did Ms half
of the riding, writing, and speaking, yet his wisdom in counSeli
and his moral 'weight,' were still richly worth their pay. In;
this generous strife, both seemed for ?, time equally obstinate;
but at last the dbstinacy' of Thornton prevailed; and amidst Mr.
Anderson's grav/mg infirmities, the partnership continued, un-
til the approach of the war indicated that the former was to be
called to other scenes' of usefulness.

In this great contest for the independence of Virginia, Mr.
Anderson was a consistent and ardent supporter of his native
State. Just in proportion to his piety, ripening for heaven, was
the clearness and steadfastness of his devotion to the great con-
stitutional rights, which, he believed, were about to be over-
thrown. His embarrassed affairs and growing decrepitude left
him little else that he could do for his cpuntry, except to coun-
sel, to pray, and to suffer. Most nobly did he do all these; and
especially the latter. To his friends, it was one of the most
touching incidents of the calamities of the country, to see such

486 8AM0KL ANDERSON.

a man, whose liberal hand had solaced so many, reduced, by
the depreciation of the currency, and other diflBculties of the
time, to the verge of want. But he bore every privation with
a cheerful, modest dignity, beautiful to behold, and instructive
to all younger men. Always hopeful, ever courageous, he was
a stay and stimulus to all whom he met; and when he crept out
to the Court House hard by, leaning on his staff, to speak a
word of cheer to the people, and leave his benediction with
them, the fire of better years was rekindled in his eye, and the
old walls recognized again the sonorous echo of that voice,
which was wont to peal there, when the lion of the (bar had
trodden his stage, and shakes his kingly mane at the enemies
of country and right, in the; .days of his strength. But that
mane was now white as the snows of the hoary Alps; and the
tread of his stalwart lim'bs was slower and slower. His orb
was steadily approaching its western horizon, serenely, and
brightly, despite the war-clouds whose angry and thickening
folds had usurped the place of that peaceful, glowing sunset,
which we would have desired to close the evening of such a
career as his. Then came suddenly, the fall of his country; and
at that blow, his spirit said, "It is enough," and sank instantly
to its rest : to rise again in, the eternal heavens.

On the night of Sunday, April 2nd, General Lee silently
evacuated Richmond and Petersburg, and began his arduous
and doubtful retreat towards the waters of the Boanoke. Mr.
Anderson heard even this appalling news, with a steadfast
heatt: he still refused to despair of the Republic: and in the
immediate prospect of passing, with his home and family, into
the lines of the enemy, his spirit was as unshaken and composed
as ever. The morning of Friday, the 7th, the quiet village was
overwhelmed by the sudden irruption of the Federal cavalry,
who, in an instant, spread themselves everywhere, plundering
and ravaging. Mr. Anderson was arrested, and led across the
street before one of their generals, who attempted to carry him
through a harsh and unfeeling catechism concerning the move-
ments of the retreating Confederates, and the routes of the
country. He answered, with quiet dignity, that if they would
observe him, his obvious infirmities, at least, would show them
a reason why such information should not be demanded of him.
Brutality itself could find no pretext to harrass such a victim,

8AMDIL 0. ANDERSON. 487

and he was coldly dismissed. He returned to' his dwelling to
find it filled from garret to cellar, with a rabble of troopers,
defiling and pilfering everything with their unclean hands.
Seeing that corporeal resistance was simply mad, and that
there was no spark of principle or compunction in such breasts,
to which to appeal, he judged that his self-respect would he
best consulted by perfect quiet. Where a righteous defense was
impossible, he disdained to complain. But the insult, the un-
utterable indignation, were too much for his tottering frame.
He was soon no longer able to direct his steps, and betook him-
self to his hed. Here he lay, with a quiet spirit, engaged in
silent prayer, receiving the cares of his beloved wife and sis-
ter with a tender and gushing thankfulness, still bidding them
to he of good courage in their God. The neighborhood was so
filled, and every house so beset, during all these days, with
plunderers, that it was almost impossible for the few males out
of the army, to leave their own doors, to render the common
offices of humanity to a neighbor. But the chivalrous women
hraved every inconvenience, and gave the needed assistance. On
the next Tuesday, the news of General Lee's final surrender
was brought to Mr. Anderson. This was, literally, the final
blow to his feeble body. Thenceforward, the expectation and
the desire of life were extinguished— he calmly said: "It is the
Lord; let him do what seemeth to him good"; and, "Now lettest
thou thy servant depart in peace." Yes, in peace! although the
ruins of a fallen country were crashing around his dying bed.
Thus, on Tuesday, the 18th of April, he calmly and devoufly
committed his soul to God, gave up the ghost, and was gathered
unto his fathers.

A few days after (it was the very day that the pompous
obsequies of Lincoln, and the popular phrensy were filling
Washington City with tumult); a handful of his neighbors, with
the pastors and elders, sadly and silently conveyed his venera-
ble remains to their resting place at the College Church. In
peaceful times, his fellow citizens would have delighted to hon-
or him with such a funeral cortege as country places had rarely
witnessed. Now, there was none; the people had just been
robbed of every beast of burden ; and the young men were eith-
er in bloody graves, or in captivity, or fieeing before their ene-
mies. But it is sufficient consolation to know, that the song

488 8AMUKL 0. ANDBE80N.

of the angels was not therefore the less rapturous, as his ran-
somed spirit entered heaven's gates: and that the hallowed dust
sleeps none the less safely in the Redeemer's keeping, until the
resurrection.

To human apprehension, it would have been happy for Mr.
Anderson to live until the deliverance of the country he loved'
so ardently was accomplished: aed to render up his rejoicing
spirit to God amidst peaceful liberty. But seeing it has been
determined by his sovereign and awful Providence, that Vir-
ginia should submit to bondage, the time of our friend's de-
parture was most excellently chosen. He went away to the
mightly dead' with the vanishing glories of his country. The
great Deliverer stepped in, and with his imperial sceptre, for-
bade that amy bonds should alight upon his free spirit. He
had ever lived a freeman; and now he was forever enfranchise'3
by deatii. How much are they to be envied', who having been
made meet for "the inheritance of the saints in light," are per-
mitted thus to receive the f ulflllment of the prayer of Jacksion :
"that we may not be required to survive the independence of
our coumtry."

When the convulsions of the times permitted it, the most
honorable testimonials to his memory were adopted by the Ses-
sion of his church, the court and bar of Prince Edward county,
and the other public bodies with which he had been connected.

WOMEN'S RIGHTS WOMEN/

In our day, innovations march with so rapid a stride that
they quite take away one's breath. The fantastical project of
yesterday, which was mentioned only to be ridiculed, is to-day
the audacious reform, and will be to-morrow the accomplished
fact. Such has been the history, of the agitation for "women's
rights," as they are sophistically called in this country. A few
years ago'this movement was the. especial hob^by of a few old
women of both Sfexes, who made themselves the laughing-stDck
of all sane people by the annual ventilation of their crotchet.
Their only recruits Were a few of the unfortunates whom nature
or fortune had' debarred fr»m those triumphs and enjoyments
which are the natural ambition of the Sex, and who adopted
this agitation as the most feasible mode of expressing their
spitefulness against the successful/competitors. To-day the
movement has assumed such dimensions that it challenges the
attention of every thoughtful mind.

If we understand the claims of the Women's Rights wom-
en, they are in substance two: that the legislation, at least, of
society shall disregard all the natural distinctions Of the sexes,
and award the same specific rights and franchises to both'in
every respect; and that woman while in the married state shall
be released frotn every species of conjugal subordination. The
assimilation of the garments o| the two sexes, their competition
in the same Industries and professions, and their common ac-
cess to the same amusements and recreations, are social changes
which the "strong-minded' expect to work, each one for her-
self, when once the obstructions oflaware removed from the
other points.

One result of the reflection which we have been able to
give this movement, is the conviction that it will prevail in the
so-called "United States." This is foreshadowed flby the frantic
lust for innovation which has seized the 'body of the people like

1 From Th^ Southern Magazine. 489

490 women's bights women.

an epidemic. It is enough with them to condemn any instita-
tion, that it was bequeathed us by our forefathers; because it
is not the invention of this age, it is wrong, of course. In their
eyes no experience proves anything, save the experience which
they have had themselves. They do not suppose that our fathers
were wise enough to interpret and record the lessons of former
experiences. That certaiin things did not succeed in our fore-
fathers' hands is no proof that they will not succeed in ouri
hands; for we are "cute," we live in an enlightened age, and un-
derstand how to manage things successfully. The philosophy of
the Ya,nkee mind is precisely that of the Yankee girl who, when
she asked for leave to marry at seventeen, was dissuaded by her
mother that she "had married very early and had seen the folly
of it." "Yes; but. Mamma," replied the daughter, "I want to
see the folly of it for myself." Your Yankee philosopher is
too self-sufBcient to be cautioned from the past. He does not
know history; he would not believe its conclusions if he did;
he has no use for its lights, having enough ^'subjective" light
of his own. To such a people the fact that a given experiment
is too absurd to have been ever tried before, is an irresistible
fascination: it is a chance not to be neglected.

The symptoms of approaching success which already ex-
ist are such as may well cheer the advocates of the new revo-
lution. They who a few years ago counted their adherents by
scores, now have tens of thousands. They are represented by
their own <press. They have received the support of at least
one -religious journal, which presumes to call Itself Christian
and ia the organ of a numerous denomination — the Ntw York
Independent. They receive the obsequious homage of the dema-
gogues of the day. They have already engrafted a part of their
ideas upon some State constitutions. Their apostles are in-
vited to lecture before "Christian Associations" (of that peculiar
kind which enumerate billiard and card-tables among the means
of grace), and before the United States Congress. And last, a
kindred cause, that of indiscriminate divorces, is making such
progress in many of the States that it will soon be able to lend
a strong helping-hand to its sister. Now it is by just such steps
that Radicalism grew from its despised infancy in this country.
It was just thus that Abolitionism grew. It is thus that all

women's rights women. 491

things grow on the American aoil which ripen their harvests of
evil.

The advocates of these "women's rights" may be expected
to win the day, because the premises from which they argue
their revolution have been irrevocably admitted by the bulk of
the people. Now this popular mind may not be consciously or
intentionally consistent and logical. It may jump to many con-
clusions without much analysis of the steps by which they are
reached. It may deliberately harbor the most express purpose
to be guilty of any logical inconsistency, however outrageous, in
pursuing its supposed interests ; and may have its mind ever so
clearly made up to eat its own words and principles whenever
its convenience prompts that measure. But still the Creator
has made man, in spite of himself, a logical animal ; and conse-
quences will work themselves out, whether he designs it or
not, to those results which the premises dictate. History will
write out the corollaries of the theorems whether the projec-
tors wish to stop for them or not. Now, false principles are al-
ready flrjuly planted from which the whole "Women's Rights''
claim must follow. If we look at the coarser, more concrete,
and popular form in which the consequence is drawn, we find
the argument for the popular, Radical mind perfectly unan-
swerable. "It has been decided that all negro men have a right
to vote: is not a Yankee white woman with her 'smartness' and
education as good as a stupid, ignorant. Southern black?" We
should like to see the answer to that logic from that premise
which a Northern Radical mind could be made to appreciate.
An unanswerable point thus perpetually made upon the mind
of the public, will impinge at last.

Or if we examine the argument in its more exact and logi-
cal form, we shall find it, after the established (false) premises
are granted, equally conclusive for the educated. The very
axioms of American politics now are, that "all men are by na-
ture equal," that all are inalienably "entitled to liberty and the
pursuit of happiness," and that "the only just foundation of
government is in the consent of the governed." There was a
sense in which our fathers propounded these statements; but
it is not the one in which they are now held by Americans. Our
recent doctors of political science have retained these formu
laries of words as convenient masks under which to circulate a

492 women's eights women.

set, of totally different, and indeed antagonistic notions; and
they have succeeded perfectly. The new meanings of which the
"Whigs" of 1776 never dreamed are now the current ones. Those
wise statesmen meant to teach that all men are morally equal
in the sense of the Golden Rule: that while individual traits',
rights, and duties vary widely in the different orders of politi-
cal society, these different rights all have some iporal basis;
that the inferior has the same moral title (that of a common hu-
manity and common relation to a benignant iffeavenly Father)
to liave his rights — the rights of an inferior — duly respected,
which the superior has to t'laim that his very different rights
shall be' respected. The modern version is thalt there, are no
superiors or inferiors in society; that there' is a mechanical
equality; that all have specifically all the same rights; apd' that
any other constitution is against natural' justice. Next: when
our wise fathers said that liberty is an inalienable, natural
right, they meant by each one's liberty the privilege, to do such
things as he, with his particular relations, ought to have a mor
al title to d3; the particular things having righteous, natural
limitations in every case, and much narrower limits in somt
cases than in others. Radical America' tiow means by natural
liberty each one's privilege to do what he chooses to do. By tht
consent of the governed our forefathers meant each Sovereign
Commonwealtli's consenting to the cofnstitution under which it
should be governed: they meant that it was unjust for Britain
to govern America without America's consfent. Which part o1
the'huuian 'beings living in a given American State should con
stitute the State potentially, thepopulus whose franchise it was
to express the will of the commonwealth for all — that was in
their eyes wholly another question, to be wisely decided in dif
ferent States accarding to the structure which Providence had
given them. By "the consent of the governed" it would appeal
that Radicalism means it is entirely just for Yankeedoni to gov.
ern Virginia against Virginia's consent, and that it is not jusi
to gDvern any individual human being without letting him
vote for his governors. The utter inconsistency of the two parts
of this creed, is not ours to reeoncdle. ft is certain that, both
parts (consistent or not) are flriiily held as the American creed.
The version given t9 the maxim as to individual rights is uni-
versally this: that natural justice requires that suffrage shall

WOMBN^S BIGHTS WOMEN. 493

be coextensive with alleg;ance> except where the right has been
forfeited by some crime {such as that which the men of 1861
committed in presuming to act on the principles of thp men of
1776). To' these errors the American i>eo.ple are too deeply com-
mitted to evade any of their logical applications. For the, sake
of these dogmas they have destroyed one Federal and eleven
other State constitution^, have committed a half million of mur-
ders, and (dearest of all) have spent some seven thousand mil-
lions of dollars. Repudiate these maxims now ! Never! This
would be to dishonor the ghosts of all the slaughtered Union-
Savers; to shame the sacrifices of all the "Trooly Lo'il" during
the gloritos four years, to dion the very crown of martyrdom
upon' the (brow of the "late lamented," and worst of all, to 3ut-
rage the manes of all those departed dollars.

Now then, when Mistress Amaaona Niarragansett steps for-
ward, and having vmdicated her claim to have belonged alway.s
to the true Israel of the "Unconditional UniDnists," demands ;i
simple and o'bvious application of these honored maxims to her
own ca:se, how can she be gainsaid? Hitherto the State has
governed her without asking her consent at'the ballot-box. This
is self-evidently against the immortal truth that "all just gov-
ernment is founded on the consent of the governed." The State
has restrained her natural liberty of doing as she chose, com-
pelling her to pay a great.many dollars in taxes which she
would'rather have chosen tp expend in crinoline, and forbidding
her to do a great many other little acts, such as bigamy, etc.,
which might have been her preference (and therefore her na-
tural right); and all this without even saving the State's credit
and manners by asking her, consent at the polls to the laws
made for her. And last: the State has committed the crowning
outrage and inconsistency of not letting her be a man because
God made her a woman! What an outrage this to be commit-
ted on 80 frivolous a pretext! Be consoled. Mistress Aiiiazona ;
it is simply impossible that such abuses can stand much long-
er in the full light of this reforming age. "The schoolmistress
is abroad." That mighty tide of progress which has already
swept away the Oonstitution, and slavery, and State's rights,
and the force of contracts public and private, with all such rub-
bish, will soon dissolve your grievance also. Has not the Radi-
cal version of the political gospel said, "All men are by nature

494 Women's rtosts wolocN.

mechanically equal?" And "man," Mistress Amazona (as you
will know when you acquire the virile right of learning Latin)
here means, not vir, but Aome; the species irresipective of sex.
It means that a woman has a natural right to do all the particu-
lar things that a man does (if she can), to sit on juries and
shave her beard, to serve in the army and ride astraddle, to
preach sermons and sing bass.

But seriously: a woman is a human being, and a grown
woman is an adult. She is treated, and must be treated, by all
governments as a citizen owing allegiance and subject to law.
On those principles, which are the first principles of Radical-
ism, it is impDssible to deny her right to vote and to participate
in all the franchises of men. Her excliision is a glaring in-
stance of "class legislation" — that odious thing which Badical-
ism so strongly condemns as contrary to equality. To subject
women to these disabilities is even a more glaring injustice than
was the exclusion of the negro from American citizenship be-
cause he was "guilty of a skin"; for here the exclusion from
natural rights is grounded on the sole fact that woman is "gxs,i\-
ty of a sex." And especially are all those laws unnatural and
inexcusable iniquities which subject the person or property- of
the wife to any marital authority. What is such marriage but
a species of (white) domestic slavery? Nor is it any excuse to
say that in America no woman enters the .married state save
at her own option; for to that state the most commanding in-
stincts of woman's being impel her; and it is but a mocking
tyranny to impose this slavery on the married state of woman,
and tell her then that she need not submit to the yoke if she
chooses to avoid it by sacrificing the chief instincts of her be-
ing. Why, it may ibe even said to the galley-slave that he need
not be a slave, provided he is willing to disregard that other
primal instinct, the love of life : suicide will set him f ree !

Such is the logic of the Women's Rights party, from Radi-
cal premises. Its prospect of triumph is greatly increaised by
this, that its Northern opponents (the only ones who have any
power to oppose) have disabled themselves from meeting it by
their furious Abolitionism. The premjsesi of that doctrine, to
which they are so irrevocably committed, now shut their
mouths. It is vain for the rabid negrophilist, Dr. Horace Bush-
nell, to write a book at this date against Women's Rights as the

women's BIQHT8 WOMBN. 495

"Befoptn against Nature." He cannot consistently oppose it;
lie has himself naturalized the false principles from which that
"reform" will flow. The true principles from which its folly
might have been evinced, the principles held by us "Rebels," he
has trampled down with the armed heel^ and drowned in blood
and buried' under mountains of obloquy and odium and slander.
He cannot resort to those sound premises. To meet the argu-
ment of these aspiring Amazons fairly, one must teach, with
Moses, the ApDstle Paul, John Hampden, Washington, George
Mason, John C. Calhoun, and all that contemptible rabble of
"old fogies," that .political society, is composed of "superiors,
inferiors, and equals"; that while all these bear an equitable
moral relation to each other, -they have very different natural
rights and duties; that just government is not founded on the
consent of the individuals .governed, 'but ion the ordinance ot
Grod, and hence a share in the ruling franchise is not a natural
right at all, but a privilege to be bestowed according to a wise
discretion on a limited class having qualification to use it for
the good of the whole; that the integers out of which the State
is constituted are not individuals, but families represented in
their parental heads; that every human being is born under
authority (parental and civic) instead of being born "free" in
the licentious sense that liberty is each one's privilege of doing
what he chooses; that subordination, and not that license, is the
natural state of all men; and that without such equitable dis-
tribution of different duties and' rights among the classes na-
turally differing in condition, and subordination of some to otn-
ers, and of all to the law, society is as impossible as is the ex-
istence of a house without distinction between the foundation-
stone and the cap-stones. No words are needed to show hence
that should either the voice of Giod or of sound experience re-
quire woman to be placed for the good of the whole society in a
subordinate sphere, there can be no natural injustice in doing
so. But these old truths, with their sound and beneficent ap-
plications, have been scornfully repudiated by Aibolitionism
and Radicalism. The North cannot, will not, avow and appeal
to them, because that would be'to confess that the injured South
was all the time right in its opposition to Abolition; and the
conquerors will rather let all perish than thus humble their
pride to the poor conquered victims.

496 women's rights women.

It may be inferred again that the present movement fo*
women's rights, will certainly prevail from the history of its
only opponent, Northern conservarism. This is a party whiclV
never conserves anything. Its history has been that it demtlvs
to each aggression of the progressive party, , and. aims to' save
its credit by a respectable amount of growling, .but always'ac-
quiesces at last in the innovation. What was the resisted nov-
elty .of j'esterday is to-day one of the accepted principles of eOn'
servatism; it is now conservative only in affecting to resist tlie
next innovation, which will to-morrow De forced upon its timid-
ity, and will be succeeded by some third revalution,. to be de-
nounced and thep. adopted' in its turn. Americap coiiservatism
is merely the shadow that follows Radicalism as it moves for-
ward towards perdition. It remains behind.it, but' never re-
tards it, and always advances near its leader. TJus pnetended
.salt hath utterly lost its savor: wherewith shall it, he salted? Its
impotency is not hard, indeed, to explain. It is worthless be-
cause it is the conservatism of expediency , only, and ^not'of
sturdy principle. It intends to risk nothing serious ,fo* the salie
of the truth, and has no idea of bdng guilty of the folly of
martyrdom. It always — when about to enter a protest — very
iblandly informs the wild beast whose path it essays to stop,
that its "bark is worse than its bite," and that it.onjy means to
save its manners by enacting its decent reU of resistance; The
only practical purpose which it now subserves ia American
politics is to give enough exercise to Radicalism to keep it "iii
wind," and to prevent its becoming pursy and lazy from hav
ing nothing to whip. No doubt, after a few years, when wom-
en's suffrage shall have become an accomplished fact, conserva-
tism will tacitly admit it into its creed, and thenceforward
plume itself upon its wise iirmness in opposing with> similar
weapons the extreme of baby suffrage ; and when that too shall
have been won, it will be heard declaring that the integrity of
the American Constitution requires at least the refusal of suff-
rage to asses. There it will assume, with great dignity, its final
position.

Indeed, as De Tocqueville predicted, innovations in the
direction of extensions of suffrage will always be successful in
-Vmerica, because of the selfish timidity of her public men. It
is the nature of ultra democracy to make all its politicians time-

women's bights women. 497

servers; its natural spawn is the brood of narrow, truckling,
cowardly worshippers of the vox populi, and of present expe-
diency. Their pDlar star is always found in the answer to the
question, "Which will be the more popular?" As soon as any
agitation of this kind goes far enough to indicate a possibility
of success, their resistance ends. Each of them begins to argue
thus in his private mind: — "The proposed revolution is of course
preposterous, but it will Ibe best for me to leave opposition to
it to others. For if it succeeds, the newly enfranchised will not
fail to remember the oppDuents of their claim at future elec-
tions, and to reward those who were their friends in the hour
of need." Again : it has now become a regular trick of Ameri-
can demagogues in power to manufacture new classes of voters
to sustain them in oflBce. It is presumed that the gratitude of
the newly enfranchised will be suflBcient to make them vote the
ticket of their benefactors. But as gratitude is a very flimsy
sort of fabric among Radicals, and soon worn threadbare, such
a reliance only lasts a short time, and requires to be speedily
replaced. The marvelous invention of negrD suffrage (excogi-
tated for this sole purpose) suflBced to give Radicalism a new
four years' lease of life; but the grateful allegiance of the f reed-
men to their pretended liberators is waxing very thin; and
hence the same expedient must be repeated, in the form of cre-
ating a few millions of female votes. The designing have an
active, selfish motive f3r pushing the measure; but its oppon-
ents will without fail be paralyzed in their resistance by their
wonted cowardice; so that success is sure.

This expectation is greatly confirmed by a review of the
history of past innovations. They have all been carried against
the 'better judgment of the class in the country to whom the
Constitution cDmmitted the power of deciding for or against
them. In 1829-1830, the State of Virginia took her first de-
parture from the old principle of freeholders' suffrage. In 1851
she completed that revolution (as well as introduced sundry
other Radical features) by extending the right to vote indis-
criminately to all white males. In both instances it was hard
to find a freeholder, not a demagogue, who could avow a hearty
preference for the changes. They were carried against the con-
victions of the voters 'by the influences which have been above
described. It is most probable that the same thing was true in

498 wojtbn's bights women.

every State which adopted universal suffrage. The coercive
measures of the Federal Government were undoubtedly pre-
cipitated against the convictions of the majority of the Northern
people. So the war was transmuted into an Abolition measure
under the same circumstances. And last: negro suffrage was
undoubtedly introduced against the better judgment of nearly
all by the selfish arts of the demagogues; and as there was
neither party nor statesman that had the nerve to head the al-
most universal opposition, the decision went by default. Nor
will there be, under any future circumstances, either leader or
party that will risk the odium of a movement to take away
suffrage from the incompetent hands of the blacks, however
clearly it may appear that they are using it for the ruin of
themselves and the country. Thus it is the destiny of the Yankee
people to commit a species of political Hari-kari with its own
unwilling hands. The crowning element of despair is in the en-
forced consolidation of the Government. There are no reserved
rights of Statee. The mad innovation which is adopted by a
majority of them is enforced upon all ; so that no place of refuge
is left in the whole land where the right principles and usages
might find sanctuary, and abide as a wholesome example and
recuperative i>ower for reform.

What then, in the next place, will be the effect of this fun-
damental change when it shall toe established? The obvious
answer is, that it will destroy Christianity and civilization in
Aimerica. Some who see the mischievousness of the movement
express the hope that it will, even if nominally successful, be
kept within narrow limits by the very force of its own absur-
dity. They "reckon without their host." There is a Satanic
ingenuity in these Radical measures which secures the infec-
tion of the reluctant dissentients as surely as of the hot advo-
cates. The women now sensible and modest who heartily de-
precate the whole folly, will be dragged into the vortex, with
the assent of their now indignant husbands. The instruments
of this deplorable result will be the (so-called) conservative can-
didates for ofSce. They will effect it by this plea, that ignorant,
impudent, Radical women will vote, and vote wrong; whence
it becomes a necessity for the modest and virtuous women, for
their country's sake, to sacrifice their repugnance and counter-
poise these mischievous votes in the spirit of disinterested self-

women's bights womrn. 499

sacrifice. Now a woman can never resist an appeal to the prin-
ciple of generous devotion; her glory is to crucify herself in
the cause of duty and of zeal. This plea will be successful. But
when the virtuous have once tasted the dangerous intoxication
of political excitement and of power, even they will be absorb-
ed; they will learn to do con amore what was first done as a
painful duty, and all the baleful influences of political life will
be diffused throughout the sex.

What those influences will be may be learned by every one
who reverences the Christian Scriptures, from this fact, that
the theory of "Women's Eights" is sheer infidelity. It directly
impugns the authority and the justice of these Scriptures. They
speak in no uncertain tones. "The husband is the head of the
wife" (Eph. V. 23). "Wives, submit yourselves to your own hus-
!bands, as to the Lord" (v. 22). "The man is not for the woman,
but the woman for the man" (I. Cor. ii. 9). "Let the woman
learn in silence, with all subjection: but I suffer not a woman
to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in
silence: for Adam was first formed, then Eve: and Adam was
not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the trans-
gression" (I. Tim. 2: 11-14). They are to be "discreet, chaste,
keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands," etc.
(Titus ii. 5). How utterly opposed is all this to
the levelling doctrine of your Radical. Women are
here consigned' to a social subordination, and ex-
pressly excluded from ruling offices, on grounds of
their sex, and a divine ordination based by God upon a transac-
tion which happened nearly six thousand years ago! The wom-
an's sphere is expressly assigned her within her home, and she
is tailght that the assumption of publicity is an outrage against
that nature with which she is endowed. Now the politics which
denounce all this as a natural injustice and self-evident folly
cannot be expected to reverence these Scriptures; they must
and will flout their whole authority. We must then make up
our minds in accepting Women's Eights to surrender our Bibles,
and have an atheistic Government. And especially must we ex-
pect to have, presiding over every home and rearing every
group of future citizens, that most abhorrent of all phenomena,
an infidel woman; for of course that sex, having received the
precious boon of their enfranchisement only by means of the

500 women's rights women

overthrow of the Bible, must be foremost in trampling upon
this their old oppressor and enemy. Its restoration to author-
ity is necessarily their "re-enslavement," to s.peak the language
of their party.

Second : these new excitements and temptations will utter-
ly corrupt the character and' delicacy of American women. It
is indignantly asked, "Why should politics corrupt the morals
of women more than of the 'lords of creation'?" Suppose now
we reply: American politics have corrupted the morals of the
men? Suppose we argue that the retort is so true and just and
the result has actually gone to so deplorable an extent, that
were the female side of our social organization as corrupt as
the male side has already become, American society would
crumble into ruin by its own putrescence? It is better to save
half the fabric than to lose all. And especially is it better to
save the purity of the mothers who are, under God, to form the
characters of our future citizens, and of the wives who are to
restrain and elevate them, whatever else we endanger. Is it
argued that since women are now confessedly purer than men,
their entrance into politics must tend to purify politics? We
reply again that the women of the present were reared and at-
tained this comparative purity under the Bible system. Adopt
the in<'' 1 plan, and we shall corrupt our women without puri-
fying oar politics. What shall save us then?

But there is another reply to this retort. Political excite-
ments will corrupt women tenfold more than men; and this, not
because women are naturally inferior to men, but because they
are naturally adapted to a wholly different sphere. When we
point to the fact that they are naturally more emotional and
less calculating, more impulsive and less self-contained, that
they have a quicker tact but less logic, that their social nature
makes them more liable to the contagion of epidemic passions,
and that the duties of their sex make it physically impossible
for them to acquire the knowledge in a foreign sphere necessary
for political duties, we do not depreciate woman; we only say
that nature has adapted her to one thing and disqualified her for
the other. The violet would wither in that full glare of mid-
summer in which the sunflower thrives: this does not argue that
the violet is the meaner flower. The vine, left to stand alone,
would be hurled prone in the mire by the first blasts of that
history. In the case of the Amorites there was also this wise

THE LATBST INFIDKLITT. 501

wind which strengthens the grasp of the sturdy oak upon its
bed: still the oak may yield no fruit so precious as the clustery
of the vine. But the vine cannot be an oak; it must be itself,
dependent, clinging, but more precious than that on which it
leans or it must ]>erish. When anything, animate or inanimate,
is used for a function to which it is not adapted, that foreign
use must endamage it, and the more the farther that function
is from its own sphere. So it will be found (and it is no dis-
paragement to woman to say it) that the very traits which fit
her to be the angel of a virtuous home unfit her to meet the
agitations of political life, even as safely as does the more
rugged man. The hot glare of publicity and passion will speed-
ily deflower her delicacy and sweetness. Those temptations,
which her Maker did not form her to bear, will debauch her
heart, developing a character as much more repulsive than that
of the debauched man as the fall has been greater. The politi-
cating woman, unsexed and denaturalized, shorn of the true
glory of her femininity, will appear to men as a feeble hybrid
mannikin, with all the defects and none of the strength of the
male. Instead of being the dear object of his chivalrous affec-
tion, she becomes his importunate rival, despised without being
feared.

This suggests a third consequence, which some of the ad-
vocates of the movement even already are bold enough to fore-
shadow. "Women's Rights" mean the abolition of all per-
manent marriage ties. We are told that Mrs. Oady Stanton
avowed this result, proclaiming it at the invitation of the Young
Men's Christian Association of New York. She holds that
woman's bondage is not truly dissolved until the marriage bond
is annulled. She is thoroughly consistent. Some hoodwinked
advocates of her revolution may toe blind to the sequence; but
it is inevitable. It must follow by this cause, if for no other,
that the unsexed politicating woman can never inspire in mau
that true affection on which marriage should be founded. Men
will doubtless be still sensual; but it is simply impossible that
they can desire them for the pure and sacred sphere of the wife.
Let every woman ask herself: will she choose for the lord of
her affections an unsexed effeminate man? No more can man
be drawn to the masculine woman. The mutual attraction of
the two com,plementary halves is gone forever. The abolition

502 women's rights women

of marriage would follow again by another cause. The diver-
gent interests and the rival independence ol the two equal wills
would be irreconcilable with domestic government, or union,
or peace. Shall the children of this monstr3us no-union be
held responsible to two variant co-ordinate and supreme wills
at once? Heaven pity the children! Shall the two parties to
this perpetual co-partnership have neither the power to secure
the performance of the mutual dudes nor t3 dissolve it? It is
a self-contradiction, an impossible absurdity. Such a co-part-
nership of equals with independent interests must be separable
at will, as all other such co-partnerships are. The only rela-
tion between the sexes which will remain will be a cohabitation
continuing so long as tire convenience or caprice of both par-
ties may suggest ; and this, with most, will amount to a vagrant
concubinage.

But now, what will be the character of the children reared
under such a domestic organization as this? If <human exper-
ience has established anything at all, it is the truth of that prin-
ciple announced by the Hebrew prophet when he declared that
the great aim of God in Drdaining a permanent marriage tie be-
tween one man and one woman was "that He might seek a godly
seed." G-od''s ordinance, the only effective human ordinance for
checking and curbing the first tendencies to evil, is domestic,
parental government. When the family shall no longer have a
head, and the great foundati3n for the subordination of chil-
dren in the mother's example is gone; when the mother shall
hare found another sphere than her home for her energies;
when she shall have exchanged the sweet charities of domestic
love and sympathy for the fierce passions of the hustings ; when
lamilies shall be disrupted at the caprice of either party, and
the children scattered as foundlings from their hearthst3ne, —
it requires no wisdom to see that a race of sons will be reared
nearer akin to devils than to men. In the hands of such a bas-
tard progeny, without discipline, without homes, without a
Gk)d, the last remains of S3cial order will speedily perish, and
society will be overwhelmed in savage anarchy.

Last: it would not be hard to show, did space permit, that
this movement on the part of these women is as suicidal as it
is misohievous. Its certain result will be the re-enslavement of
women, not under the Scriptural bonds of marriage, but under

women's eights women. 503

the yoke of literal corporeal force. The woman who will calm-
ly review the condition of her sex in other ages and countries
will feel that her wisdom is to "let well enDugh alone." Physi-
cally, the female is the "weaker vessel." This world is a hard
and selfish scene where the weaker goes to the wall. Under all
other civilizations and all other religions than ours woman has
experienced this fate to the full ; her condition has been that of
a slave to the male — ^sometimes a ^petted slave, tout yet a slave.
In Christian and EurDpean society alone has she ever attained
the place of man's social equal, and received the homage and
honor due from magnanimity to her sex and her feebleness.
And her enviable lot among us has resulted from two causes:
the Christian religion and the legislation founded upon it by
feudal chivalry. How insane then is it for her to spurn these
two bulwarks of defense, to defy and repudiate the divine au-
thority of that Bible which has been her redemption, and to
revolutionize the whole spirit of the English common law
touching woman's sphere and rights? She is thus spurning the
only protectors her sex has ever found, and provoking a con-
test in which she must inevitably be overwhelmed. Casting
away that dependence and femininity which are her true
strength, the "strong-minded woman" persists in thrusting her-
self into competition with man as his equal. But for contest
she is not his equal ; the male is the stronger animal. As man's
rival, she is a pitiful inferior, a sorry she-mannikin. It is when
she brings her wealth of aflfection, her self-devotion, her sympa-
thy, her tact, her grace, her subtle intuition, her attractions, her
appealing weakness, and places them in the scale with man's
rugged strength and plodding endurance, with his steady log-
ic, his hardihood and muscle, and his exemption from the dis-
abling infirmities of her sex, that he delights to admit her full
equality and to do glad homage to her as the crown of his kind.
All this vantage-ground the "Women's Rights women" madly
throw away, and provoke that collision for which nature itself
has disqualified them. They insist upon taking precisely a man's
chances; well, they will meet precisely the fate of a weak man
among strong ones. A recent incident on a railroad train justly
illustrates the result. A solitary female entered a car where
every seat was occupied, and the conductor closed the door upon
her and departed. She looked in vain for a seat, and at last

504 women's eights womkn.

appealed to an elderly man near her to know if he would not
"surrender his seat to a lady." He, it seems, was somewhat a
humorist, and answered: "I will surrender it cheerfully, Mad-
am, as I always do, but will beg leave first to ask a civil ques-
tion. Are you an advocate of the modern theory of women's
rights?" Bridling up with intense energy, she replied, "Yes,
sir, emphatically; I let you know that it is my glory to be de-
voted to that noble cause." "Very well. Madam," said he,
"then the case is altered: You may stand up like the rest of us
men, until you can get a seat for yourself. '''' This was exa(st
poetic justice; and it foreshadows precisely the fate of their un-
natural pretensions. Men will treat them as they treat each
other; it will be "every man for himself, and the devil take the
hindmost." There will be of course a Semiramis or a Queen
Bess here and there who will hold her own ; but the general rule
will be that the "weaker vessels" will succumb; and the so-
ciety which will emerge from this experiment will present wom-
an in the position which she has always held among savages,
that of domestic drudge to the stronger animal. Instead of be-
ing what the Bible makes her,' one with her hus<band, queen of
his home, reigning with the gentle sceptre of love over her mod-
est, secluded domain, and in its pure and sacred retirement per-
forming the noblest work done on this earth, that of moulding
infant minds to honor and piety, she will reappear from this
ill-starred competition defeated and despised, tolerated only to
satiate the passion, to amuse the idleness, to do the drudgery,
an8 to receive the curses and blows of her barbarized masters.
Thus will be consummated that destiny to which so many
gloomy prognostics point as the allotment of the North Ameri-
can continent: to be the accursed field for the final illustration
of the harvest of perdition, grown from the seeding of the drag-
on's teeth of infidel Radicalism. God gave the people of this
land great and magnificent blessings, and opportunities and re-
sponsibilities. They might and should have made it the glory
of all lands. But they have betrayed their trust: they have
abused every gift: above all have they insulted him by flaunt-
ing in his face an impudent, atheistic, God-defying theory of
pretended human rights and human perfectibility which at-
tempts to deny man's subordination, his dependence, his fall and
native depravity, his need of divine grace. It invites mankind

women's bights women. sob

to adopt material civilization and sensual advantage as their
divinity. It assumes to be able to perfect man's condition by
its political, literary, and mechanical skill, despising that Gos-
pel of Christ which is man's only adequate remedy. It crowns
its impiety by laying its defiling hands upon the very forms of
that 'Christianity^ while with the mock affection of a Judas it
attempts to make it a captive tD the sordid ends of Mammon and
sense. Must not God be avenged on such a nation as this? His
vengeance will be to give them the fruit of their own hands, and
let them be filled with their own devices. He will set apart this
fair land by a sort of dread consecration to the purpose of giving
a lesson concerning this gDdless philosophy, so impressive as to
instruct and warn all future generations. As the dull and pes-
tilential waves of the Dead Sea have been to every subsequent
age the memento of the sin of Sodom, so the dreary tides Df an-
archy and barbarism which will overwhelm the 'boastful devices
of infidel democracy will be the caution of all future legislatars.
And thus "women's rights" will assist America "to fulfil her
great mission," that of being the "scarecrow" of the nations.

THE LATEST INFIDELITY.

A REPLY TO INGEKSOLL'S POSITIONS.

The phase of infidelity most current among those who do
not profess to accept the gospel is marked by two qualities:. It
is aggressive, and it is extreme. It refuses to stop short of that
last result, blank atheism, or, at least, blank agnosticism, from
which even the skepticism of previous ages recoiled with ab-
horrence. This ultraism of the present adyersaries is in one re-
spect very shocking; but in another it is promising. They are
practically teaching the world that conclusion, on which James
Mills justified his atheism, that when once a man's sense re-
jects the gospel theory, he finds no stopping place between that
rejection and atheism; because, as Bishop Butler has forever
established, every diflBculty which besets the old gospel plan
equally embarrasses the deistic plan. This disclosure is use-
ful. Our atheists are teaching people that there is no decent
middle ground for them to stand on; but the voice of nature
aqd conscience never permits decent people to stand long on the
ground of atheism. This outrages both head and heart too
horribly. Were a son to insist, contrary to suflBcient evidence
of the fact, upon denying and discarding the very existence of
his father, we see plainly enough how his position involves ev-
ery phase of filial transgression, because it involves the abso-
lute neglect of every filial duty. The position may involve, in
the form of a sin of omission, the crime of parricide. The athe-
ist discards the very existence of his heavenly Father; so, un-
less he has justified his denial by sound evidence, he includes in
that act every sin of impiety. We see Jiere the simple reason
why the good sense of mankind has always regarded atheism
with moral abhorrence. But this is the creed which the assail-
ants of our day prefer to urge upon us, and that with boundless

eoe

THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 507

audacity. Colonel Robert Ingersoll seems to be the leader who
holds this "bad eminence" amidst this 'host; he seems ambitious
of a large share of this dreadful responsibility. This fact justi-
fies my occasional reference to his name as representing the
code of opinions I .propose to discuss.

His variDus essays and speeches — especially his recent large
essay in the North American Review — aopear to build his op-
position to Christianity upon four grounds: One is composed
of specific objections to points in Bible history and precept,
which, he intimates, intuitively appear to him immaral. An-
other is his assertion of moral irresponsibility for opinions even
upon ethical subjects. This he claims for himself, and of course
for everybody else, as the only adequate basis for freedom of
thought, which we all regard as an inalienable right. A third
ground is his total denial of all punitive aspect and quality in
the evil consequences of free human actions. He absolutely de-
nies the element of rewards and punishments in the experienced
course of human existence. He says that the evils which fol-
low the mistakes of our free agency are nothing but natural
consequences, following from the natural laws of the universe,
which are necessary and invariable; so that these experiences
give no evidence whatever of a moral providence over men. His
fourth and chief ground is the old cavil, how God, if there were
a God, could even permissively ordain natural and moral evil in
his kingdom.

I. The first c}ass of assaults I propose to follow to a very
short distance. They could be all disposed of by pointing to the"
dense ignorance of their authors cDncerning the Bible, its real
facts and its real doctrines. They are such criticisms as their
authors would never have made had they read their Bibles with
attention and candor. They are all absolutely exploded by sim-
ple explanations which the teachers of the church have been
accustomed for generations to give even to the children of their
Bible classes. It would be wearisome and useless to go over all
of this thoroughly-trodden ground. One or two points will serve
for illustration. In general I would only remark, that it would
be well for the critics to get some little knowledge of the Chris-
tian literature befDre exposing themselves in a way both ludi-
crous and pitiable, by attacking subjects about which they have
been too proud to learn anything.

508 THE LATKST INFIDELITY.

For instance, we are hotly told by one that Joshua must
have been a very wicked man, because he not only punished
Aehan capitally for disobeying a police regulation, but mur-
dered his wife and children along with him. But the old testa-
ment makes Joshua a very pious hero; wherefore it also is a
very wicked and fDolish book. The simple and sufficient reply
is, that the execution of Achan's family was none of Joshua's
doings. He had no mare discretion about it than about Noah's
flood. God was the agent, and Joshua his merely involuntary
instrument. So that the mDral question in the given case re-
solves itself into this: Has Almighty God a right to punish a
contumacious and immoral family of his creatures with death
for a special wise end, death being the final just penalty of all
sin? No man, after provisionally admitting the condition of
this question, even fDr argument's sake, is silly enough to as-
sert that, if there is such a God, such retribution from him
would be necessarily unjust. Or, do they reinforce their cavil
by saying there is no evidence that Achan's wife and children
were accomplices in his theft? The simple reply is, that un-
doubtedly God knew them to be a bad family, worthy on gen-
eral grounds of his eternal displeasure. For the principle of
imputatiDU on which this case proceeds is that God righteous-
ly imputes part of the guilt of wicked parents to children, but
only to wicked children.* So that we are certain the family
also was vicious and disobedient. Had God punished them
some years after with death, or rheumatism, or cholera, nobody
who admits that there is a God, would have dreamed Df im-
pugning the justice of that providential dispensation. Who,
then, can blame the Sovereign Judge if, for the sake of an im-
portant and wise object, he anticipated the deserved punish-
ment and connected it with that of the criminal head of the
family? But I also deny the asserted ground of the cavil, that
persons were punished alDug with Achan who, however other-
wise sinful, were innocent of his particular breach of military
orders. No doubt they were implicated with him by receiving
and concealing the plunder. The receiver is as bad as the thief.
If there were infants in the family, death removed them to the
bliss of heaven.

•EX.XX. 6; Ezek. xvlii.

THE LATEST INFIDELITT. 509

Or, they object to Joshua's Invasion of Palestine, and
charge that his war of extermination there showed him no bet-
ter than a land pirate and a murderer; and that, as the Oid
Testament represents God as sanctioning these horrors, they
feel intuitively it is a very wicked book. I reply, that here a
very large sophism is foisted in under a very small jugglery of
words. This shallow little trick consists in the phrase "God
sanctioned," instead of "God ordained." Thus it injects into
the mind this conception of the transaction: that after Joshua,
a human sinner, who had no right to dispose of other people's
property and lives, had conceived his murderous project, God
granted it his approval. Of course that would be exceedingly
ugly. But the actual fact is that Joshua never conceived the
plan at all. The war of extermination against the Amorites
was no plan of Joshua's. There is not a particle of proof that he
ever thought he as a mere nian had any right to dispose of
other people's property and lives. The plan of extermination
was God's alone. He dictated it to Joshua. And again we say
this general had no more discretion about it than he had about
God's infliction of the deluge. God's purpose employed Joshua
as a mere executioner; and if the Sovereign Judge had a right
to pass the decree, it is nonsense to blame the mere servant who
was compelled to execute it. The logic of this accusation is
just as silly as that of a man who, after admitting the right-
eousness of the laws of New York, should call Mr. Cleveland
a murderer, because when he was sheriff at Buffalo he hung
some convicted assassins. Now, then, the only question in-
volved in this piece of history is, whether Almighty God has the
right to punish a tribe of his own creatures, whose iniquity was
now full, with the death penalty. We can get a pretty accu-
rate conception of what the morals of these gross idolaters had
become. Their habits, like those of other advanced idolaters,
were doubtless defiled by every vile excess of lust, avarice,
cruelty, unnatural affections, human sacrifice, infanticide. If
God has any title at all to judge the world in righteousness, he
certainly had a right to rid the world of this plague spot in his
own way. He had adopted another instrumentahty to burn out
a similar plague-spot, Sodom, and he was justified for that by
Jesus, by the apostles, and every honest man that ever read the

510 THE LATEST INFlDELITy.

administrative reason for God's dealing: that he was planning
to preserve a pure religion and onorality in Israel, which re-
quired their effectual protection from the contaminatiDn of this
pagan example.

Third, Colonel Ingersoll himself has been in the hatoit ot
attacking the Bible passionately, because he found that, when
candidly explained, it countenanced slavery — the Old Testa-
ment actually ordaining it, and the New Testament allowing it.
But inasmuch as slavery appears very abominable to his mDral
intuitions, this compels him to regard them as wicked books.
Here, again, the critic's whole. difBculty arises out of a sheer
misconception. Let me ask him what that thing is which ap-
pears so evil; he defines it substantially thus: the usurpation
by a stronger individual at his own violent will Dver the being
of ihis weaker fellow-man, whereby the victim is reduced from
a human personality, with a moral respDUsibility and destiny,
to a mere chattel, a brute possession, whose labor, happiness
and very existence may then be exhausted by the usurper for
his own selfish behoDf. I am happy to be able to console the
critic by assuring him, first, that everybody else would abhDr
such a relation just as he does; and, second, that the two Testa-
ments, instead of ordaining or allowing it, even adjudged it
just as he and I do. And here is the triumphant proof that this
very conceptiDn of the usurpation which Colonel Ingersoll er-
roneously supposes to be the conception of slavery, is .precisely
the crime which both Testaments condemn. (As in N. T. the
act. of the andrapodistts, and in O. T. nogebh ii/i) The Bible
abhorred it sd much that whilst Moses made only a few crimes
capital he made this Due of them; and the New Testament usual-
ly recites it along with the enormous wickednesses that incur
the damnation of hell. What, then, was that relation of human
bondage which Moses ordained and the apostles allowed? Not
the usurpation of a personal will over a fellDW-creature, not the
reduction of the bondman from a responsible human person to
a chattel (which injustice is nowhere countenanced or excused
by Holy Scripture, or by any modern Christian that ever I.
heard of), 'but it was wholly another thing, to-wit: the regular
institution, by the legislative sovereignty of the commonwealth,
of a personal and domestic authority for life over the involun
tary labor of the bondman, who was deemed by the law unfitted

THE LATEST IWriDELITT. 511

for his own safe control, in the hands of a citizen supposed by
the law to be more competent, and this authority to be exer-
cised by the master under the restraints of statutelaw, which
also treated the bondman as a responsible agent, and guaran-
teed to him his life, limbs and subsistence against the aggression
even of his master. Now, it is apparent that he would be a very
bold man who would undertake to argue that this relation is
essentially unjust, and the code which established it under any
possible circumstances a wicked one. When arguing thus he
would have to attack the righteousness of the parental author-
ity over minors, and indeed every form of governmental re-
straint of magistrates over individuals not grounded in convic-
tion of crime.

I have shown in these three specimens how completely
they are exploded by a little tincture of Bible knowledge and
common sense. I assert that all the other objections of this class
can be shown to be equally worthless, but they are too numerous
and trivial to detain the reader.

II. The second general ground for rejecting Christianity is
the doctrine so dear to skeptics, that no man is morally respon-
sible for any of the opinions which he sincerely holds. They
assert that this position is the only basis for true intellectual
freedom. They argue from it that our charge of sinfulness, or
possibly impiety, or even our manifestation of moral disappro-
val against their most extreme speculations, is unjust, and is
of the nature of wicked persecution of the free-thinkers. They
also argue that the Christian system is absurd, in that it makes
faith its cardinal condition for enjoying God's favor, inasmuch
as no man's faith has any moral character, and cannot be a
subject of moral responsibility, or approval or disapproval.
Colonel Ingersoll is certain that to whatever extremes of athe-
ism, or even of what appears to other people blasphemy, he
is really led (not feignedly) by his thinking, he is as innocent
therein as a man is for the color of his hair or the height of
his stature. And here is his proof: that if the evidence appears
before the mind, intellectual credence is purely involuntary, be-
ing the logical result of the evidence, and metaphysically neces-
sitated; that such credence is exclusively the result of intel-
lectual activities of the mind, with which neither emotion nor
will has anything to do; that our responsibility is limited to

512 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.

those acts of the spirit which have a voluntary source. So, he
thinks, it would be as unjust to blame him for his atheistic con-
clusions to which his thought has led him, as to blame a man for
being wet when he has been thrown into the water.

If he were not extremely ignorant of philosophy and theol-
ogy he would be aware that this is but the old sophism in psy-
chology, which has been a thousand times refuted. When we
hear Colonel Ingersoll assert that his anti-Christian convic-
tions are the fruit of his pure intellection, without any element
of emotion or will, we picture to ourselves the huge laughter
of his own votaries at so vast and obvious an irony; for theii'
own eyes and ears tell them that his agnosticism is all passion.
What means that labored torrent of flery and vindictive elo-
quence with which he assails the theologians and the Bible?
Do not his auditors hear him ascribe his opposition to the Scrip-
tures in part to his passionate abhorrence of slavery? Do they
not see hatred of Christianity and its restraints blazing amidst
the whole frame- work of his pretended logic? His unbelief
pure passionless intellection indeed! Why, he is incarnate pas-
sion! It is supremely ludicrous! And we surmise that evei7
applauder of his atheism who does any thinking is conscious
of this; every one sees that there is really no logic at all in this
agnostic eloquence, but it is all feeling, and it is acceptable
simply because it harmonizes with the conscious hatred of his
hearers against the holiness of the Bible and its restraints on
their proud self-will. We have only to remember that the ob-
jett of every moral judgment is a moral object which unavoid-
ably engages and interests the disposition, affections and will
of every rational moral agent, and all who can reason see that
no moral conclusion can be a pure intellection, but that some
voluntary element must enter for good or for evil into the
sources of every such judgment. No man on earth reasons
towards objects which he either likes or dislikes strongly, with
the same complete intellectual impartiality with which he rea-
sons about pure mathematics. If he claims that he does, it is
because "a deceived heart hath turned him aside." This is the
analysis of common sense. This is the philosophy on which ev-
ery sensible man in the world accounts for the multitude of
these familiar facts, to-wit : that all people, while agreeing per-
fectly upon the truths of mathematics and numbers, differ more

TH» LATEST INFIDELITY. 513

or less upon questions of property rights, law-suits, character,
politics, medicine, and religion. It is because all these objects
of thought involve elements which appeal to the feelings and
the will. Now the false argument itself concedes that where a
voluntary element is involved in the sources of any spiritual
action, it is to that extent responsible. This is all I claim. Here
is a man who has reached true conclusions on moral subjects.
He is virtuous and approvable for them just to the extent to
which a right heart has co-operated in his reaching them. Here
is another man who holds erroneous opinions on a moral sub-
ject, and he is responsible and blamable therefor just to the ex-
tent in which a proud and evil heart has helped to bring them
about.

So absurd is Calonel Ingersoll's position that he clearly dis-
closes the fact that he does not believe it himself. He claims
not to be responsible or blamable for his anti-religious conclu-
sions; then, of course, all the rest of us should be equally irre-
sponsible for our conclusions held with similar honesty. Now
here is a man whose thinking has honestly led him to this con-
clusion, which he really believes from the bottom of his heart
he has fairly reached, to-wit: that Colonel Ingersoll's agnosti-
cism is erroneous, that it is morally blamable, that he is conse-
quently responsible for it (not indeed to man, but to his God,
and this is the vital distinction which guarantees to all of us
all the mental and religious liberty to which we are entitled),
and consequently that the reproaches suggested by this evil
creed which he hurls against his G-od, and his fatal misleading
of his immartal fellow-men, are extremely sinful. Now, does
Colonel Ingersoll view this honest conviction of mine with any
of that philosophic nonchalance which he requires me to use
towards his? Not he!' He blames me for it extremely, as un-
just to him, as tyrannical, tending towards the wickedness of
persecution for opinion's sake. He fulminates his indignant
rhetoric against the wrong I am doing him. He fills the atmos-
phere with his complaints of me. Now this excites our huge
laughter. The unbeliever himself demonstrates the absurdity
of his own positian, and refuses to stand on it at the first change
of the case. So he teaches us he does not believe his own phil-
osophy.

It is in fact impossible to be believed by anybody, because

514 THE LATEST INWDELITT.

it involves us in absolute contradictions. If honesty in error
were all that is needed to hold us innocent, truth would have
no practical value above that of error. But truth has its eternal
intrinsic value. Again, our decisive conclusions according to
the necessary laws of our spirits direct us in our actions. It
is proper that they should, or otherwise our actions might al-
ways be irrational, aimless, and worthless. Now if we allow
the man to hold himself irresponsible for his moral opinions,
of course we must hold him irresponsible for all the actions
which they logically direct. After you have justified the tree
in being the species of fruit-tree it is, you cannot blame it for
'bearing that species of fruit. So that this philosophy requires
us to justify some of the most mischievous and abominable
crimes that are done on earth. Let us see a^ain whither it car-
jies its advocate. Colonel Ingersoll knows that the slave-hold-
ers were generally sincere in their belief of their right; there-
fore he would have to justify the slavery he so abhors. He
knows that Messrs. Davis, Lee and Jackson were perfectly sin-
cere in their convictions; so he must justify them in all those
blows at "the life of the nation" which his patriotism abhors.
Supposing the magistrates of the old-fashioned State of Dela-
ware, honest and sincere in the advocacy of that antiquated stat-
ute which, we are told, still makes atheistic utterances a mis-
demeanor punishable at the whipping-post, and supposing the
gallant Colonel's zeal for his truth to have led him to that
Pauline grade of heroism which makes men glory in stripes for
the' truth's sake, his philosophy would require him to justify
those magistrates, even at the moment the constable's scourge
was descending on his back. But would it? We trow not.
Again he provokes the inextinguishable laughter of the on-
lookers. His theory of free thought is "unworkable."

Again, the position leads to a consequence yet worse. It
is entirely possible that two sincere reasoners may reach op-
posite conclusions concerning the same moral object. If each
is irresponsible and innocent in his conclusion, he must be
equally so in the action to which it directs hian. So our phil-
osopher has on his hands this strange case: A has a logical
right to execute an action touching the disputed object, which
B, the other party, has an equally logical and moral right to re-

THE LATEST INFIDEtlTT. fil5

sist as a wrong to himself! "The force of nature could no fur-
ther go."

In conclusion of this head, we remind the "free-thinkers"
(whom the above argument proves to be not free-thinkers, but
crazy-thinkers), that their doctrine is refuted by every analogy
of nature and every experimental fact of their own observation.
The natural laws which regulate the results of our free actions
invariably hold us responsible for our erroneous opinions. When
we make honest mistakes as to the state of facts, nature makes
no allowance for us, but inexoraWy holds us to the results of
the real facts. The youth who goes sailing in a rotten boat,
really supposing it to be sound, gets his ducking just the same.
The farmer who exposes his grain, honestly thinking the fair
weather will hold, if he proves mistaken in the weather, has
his grain mildewed just as though he had wilfully neglected it.
The sick man who swallows three grains of morphia, really sup-
posing it to be quinine, dies just as the intentional suicide. But
why multiply instances? We thus see universal nature repu-
diates this shallow philosophy. And so we return to our con-
clusion, that men are and ought to be responsible for their mor-
al opinions; that the psychological reason why, is this: erron-
eous moral opinions cannot be adopted by the rational creature
except there be some voluntary element at work amidst these
sources of the wrong judgment; and to this voluntary element
blame justly attaches; that, therefore, men are justly held re-
sponsible for their wrong actions, though logically dictated by
their own opinions; that all penal responsibility for wron|
opinions is reserved to God alone, and is never to be usurped
by human beings unless those opinions be embodied in crim-
inal actions; that the resistance of the errorist's fellow-men
must be limited to disapprobation and argumentative refuta-
tion; and thus the truth is established without opening the door
to the hateful doctrine of penal persecution for opinion's sake.
III. The third ground of objection, as given above, is his
total denial of all punitive aspect and quality in the evil conse-
quences of free human actions. He absolutely denies the ele-
ment of rewards and punishments in the experienced course of
human existence. He says that the evils which follow the mis-
takes of our free agency are nothing but natural consequences,
following from the natural laws of the universe, which are

616 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.

necessary and invariable; so that these experiences give no evi-
dence whatever of a moral providence over men. Colonel In-
gersoll poundly asserts that in the course of nature and ex-
perience there are no punishments, but only natural consequen-
ces. He also admits that the laws which dispense these conse-
quences are invariable. The only possible method by which
evil can be averted is to reform the mistakes which incurred
it. The object of this strange doctrine is manifestly to escape
that argument for the being and the moral providence of a God,
which is written so plainly all over human events. We have
two points here: First, his denial is abortive. Had he read, or
read dispassionately, the second chapter of Part I. in Bishop
Butler's Analogy, he would never have written those para-
graphs in which he stated his doctrine. Bishop Butler shows
by arguments which no man can refute, that the happy conse-
quences of good conduct are of the nature of rewards, and evil
consequences of miscondnct have every trait and characteristic
of true penalties, even down to the most minute; that this gen-
eral law of nature is therefore a moral law as well as a natural
one; that it is a disclosure of a righteous ipersonal will above
nature, and that it holds men under a moral probation for their
conduct. And since this is universally true of man's moral es-
tate, as soon as we learn his continued rational existence after
death, the utmost probability arises, that we must meet the con-
sequences of our probation in a future world as well as the
present. AH this follows without the light of Scripture. It is
scaftely necessary to weary the reader by repeating the points
of that masterly argnment. It is a shame for any educated man,
especially an English-speaking man, to handle this doctrine
without informing himself of Bishop Butler's argument. No
man who ever informs himself candidly of it will ever dispute
its conclusions. I will, only for confirmation, make these two
remarks: Every suffering transgressor in the world intuitively
recognizes in his own consciousness the conceptions of guilt and
punishment as soon as he recognizes the causal connection be-
tween his own error and the natural evil consequences. Let any
such case be taken at random. Let it be, for instance, the case of
a man who, by sensual excesses in the use of stimulants (alco-
hol, opium, tobacco), has ruined his digestion. His reason has
admitted this proposition — that his own excesses have caused

THK LATEST INFIDELITY. 517

his own sufferings. Has there ever been such a man in the
world whDse consciousness contained only the physical feelings
of pain, nausea, lassitude, and so-forth, and the self-calculated
personal feelings of fear, sorrow, and so-forth? Is this all that
is in his consciousness? Never. There is always the additional
element of self-blame. There is always self-reproach for hav-
ing done what he ought not. The man knows intuitively that
he has been guilty in the case, and not merely mistaken; and
that these sufferings are penal, and not merely painful. Men
not seldom incur severe physical sufferings in the magnanimous
perfomnance of duties, as, for instance, the faithful fireman who
is burnt in rescuing human life. Now the burn hurts him just
as badly as the drunkard's gastritis hurts him; but is it possi-
ble for the consciousness of these two men under the suffer-
ings to be the same? Never. This brave, honest man suffers,
but cannot reproach himself. This guilty sensualist also suffers,
and is compelled to reproach himself. According to Colonel
Ingersoll's theory, the two men ought to have the same con-
sciousness. Such test-cases show that the human mind intui-
tively, and necessarily, recDgnizes those very moral elements of
blameworthiness and punishment which are so rashly denied.
My other remark is, that all men, when sipectators of the na-
tural penalties of transgression, intuitively recognize the penal
relation. What they say is always something like this: "We
are sorry for him, but it serves him right"; or, "Well, the fellow
has got what he deserves." Now, what does the oommDn sense
of mankind mean by these words "right," "desert?" We thils
see that the world i3 against that doctrine. Colonel Ingersoll
is a lawyer. We would request him to attempt an explanation
up3n his philosophy of the penalties which civil S3ciety visits
upon secular crimes. If there is any logic in his composition,
a half-hour's meditation on that problem will convince him that
his philosophy lands him in a Serbonian bog. Far instance,
would the conscience of mankind have universally justified
such inflictions by civil society if it had not been instructed and
supported by the analogy of these penalties of nature? Is not
civil society itself one of the inevitable results of this constitu-
tion of human nature? Yes. Must it not follow, then, that the
evils which civil society visits on secular crimes are also na-
tural consequences of these natural laws, as truly so ae the

618 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.

drunkard's gastritis? But those are avowedly penal. Once
more, Colonel Ingersoll on his theory would have to extplain the
imprisonment which he visits on a felon, as precisely parallel
to the detention in a quarantine ship of a virtuous citizen who
has just had the bad luck to sail recently from a yellow-fevei*
port. Are the two inflictions precisely the same expediences
for the public good, equally unfounded on an imputation of
guilt to the sufferers? That is the explanation to which his
philosophy would lead him; but he dare not accept it. He
knows that the virtuous traveler is detained in spite of his in-
nocence; but the felon is detained because of his guilt. He
who says that the natural evils incurred by misconduct are not
penalties, but mere consequences, ought also to say that evils
which society, itself a natural institution, inflicts on criminals
are also mere consequences, and not just penalties. But against
this every conscience revolts.

Our second point of objection is: that Colonel Ingersoll's
doctrine a'bout natural evils, if true, would be unspeakably
harsher and more repulsive than the Christian doctrine, which
be thinks too harsh to be endured. For, first, it places us er-
ring mortals not under the dominion of a righteous personal
will, which is also wise, benevolent, and merciful, but under the
rule of invariable natural laws. Under these, the evils which
men experience, saith he, are not penalties, but mere conse-
quences. Now a code which has no penalties of course has no
pard<ins. There is no room in it for the conception of forgive-
ness. It tells a suffering transgressor that, when once his mis-
take is made, his suffering must be as inevitable as the attrac-
tion of gravitation or the rotation of the earth. Can mere na-
tural law hear a prayer? Does it understand repentance? Can
it feel pity? Ask the ocean storm or the devouring fire these
questions. Here truly we haVe humanity with a vengeance!
The skeptic is too humane to endure the conception of penal
chastisement directed ty a personal Grod, who is both just and
merciful; and to help matters, he proposes to consign his fellow-
creatures to the iron and remorseless dominion of natural law,
which is equally ignorant of repentance, mercy, and forgive-
ness. But, he says, let the erring man reform his mistake, and
thereby he will emerge from the painful consequences. Is this
true? Does he not know that the constant tendency of natural

THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 519

evil is to proceed to the irreparable stage? This drunkard's
gastritis, for instance, even if he reforms early, is only palliat-
ed, not wholly eradicated. At best he goes the rest of his life
a crippled man, and death, the supreme natural evil, falls upon
him at last; but in a multitude of instances the gastritis retains
its virulence in spite of the reform. For all these innumerable
sufferers the skeptic h&s, only a gospel of despair. He tells his
fellow, "You are in the clutches of inexorable physical law;
you have transgressed it; you perish."

Next, it is impossible for Oolonel Ingersoll to rid either him-
self or his fellow-creatures of the sentiment of moral desert in
their conduct. It is at once the deepest and the keenest of hu-
man sentiments. There is no craving of the human soul so pro-
found as the demand for justice to its merits, and a righting
for the wrongs done to it. There is no anguish so keen, so in-
consolable, as that inflicted by their refusal. Now the skeptic's
theory proiposes to take these moral creatures, with these ex-
quisite sensibilities, and subject them to a system of laws which
neither knows nor cares anything about moral deserts. Which
is about as humane as to consign the feeding, nursing, and con-
solation of all the orphan, the sick, and the sorrowing children
in the world to a huge steam engine. For our part, we would
rather leave our orphans to an all-wise parent, who would whip
thejn well when they deserved it, but who could also hear their
prayers, understand their penitence, and forgive their way-
wardness.

Once more, our skeptic confesses that he cannot tell lis
whether we shall live beyond bodily death or not. Then, for
all he knows, we may. And if we do, it follows of course from
his theory, that we must pass our immortal existence also un-
der this blind natural code of laws, which, knowing nothing of
penalties, can know nothing of pardons. When we observe the
system of nature, as expounded by him, the clearest and most
ominous feature about it is, that these evil consequences of
human error are continually tending to pass, under our own
eyes, into the irreparable. The longer the career of error is con-
tinued, the more certainly is this result reached. Thus the only
inference from his scheme of naturalism is this, that if we
should not have the luck to die like the pig or the dog, we
must face the violent probability, that these "mere oonsequen-

520 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.

ces" of human error will, in every case, beco^me irreparable and
eternal. And this is the sort of comfort gravely offered to his
sinning and sorrowing fellow-men, by one who professes to be
too humane and tender-hearted to endure the Christian sys-
tem, with its divin« equities, and divinely wrought grace and
pardon, offered to the whole world withDut money and without
price.

IV. But the chief ground of objection which seems to pre-
vail with the modern impugners of Christianity is the old one
of God's permission of evil in his kingdom. It is as old as hu-
man literature, having been discussed by Job, by the Psalmist,
by the Greek philosophers, by Seneca, and by a multitude of
divines of subsequent ages. The theodicy, or vindication, of
God from this cavil, makes a part of almost every book on na-
tural theology, and has engaged the greatest intellects of the
world — as a Leibnitz, a Chalmers. Of course I profess to ad-
vance nothing new. Neither Is there need of doing it; for the
recent school of cavillers advance nothing which has not been
pondered and rejected a thousand times before. And they dif-
fer from the more thoughtful and decent skeptics of previous
days only in the superficiality and insolence of their objec-
tions. But I will use in dealing with them a candor they do not
emplDy in opposing us. I will state the difficulties which at-
tend God's permission of evil frankly, and with all the force
which even the ablest objector can claim for them.

The theistic scheme professes to demonstrate the existence,
attributes, and providence of God. it says that he is self-exist-
ent and the creator of all temporal beings; that he Is absolutely
supreme in authority; that he is of infinite knowledge and pow-
er; that he is perfectly holy, and must therefore prefer holi-
ness to sin in all rational creatures; and that he is infinitely
benevolent as well as just. The argument is, that It is Incredi-
ble such a divine sovereign should freely choose the prevalence
of evil in the kingdom which he made and absolutely governs,
and especially that dreadful aggregate of remediless evil em-
bodied in his hell. But If he is incapable of freely choosing
such horrors they should have no place in his kingdom; since
his knowledge and prescience are infinite, and his will effica-
cious and sovereign in his whole providence. Amidst this cir-
cle of attributes, it is urged, it ought to be impossible that hell

THE LATEST INTIDELITT. 521

should find a place, not to speak of the lesser evils of our mor-
tal state. The Christian apologists have been wont to offer
these palliations: That while all these are real evils, and so
repugnant in themselves to the divine nature, we actually see
them made in his providence the occasions of excellent results
and beautiful virtues. Evil evokes the virtue of fortitude, which
would be otherwise not energized. Evil trains the soul to pa-
tience, submission, and heavenly-mindedness. Suffering is
necessary to evoke the lovely virtue of sympathy. Hence we
may hold that a 'benevolent God permissively ordains the evil,
not for its own sake, but for the sake of those results which it
occasions. This palliation our oppugners sweep aside with dis-
dain. They say if your Grod is omnipotent, he is certainly able
to work all these admirable results by painless means. If he is
benevolent, as you say, he must have chosen the easy means
instead of the bitter, because he would thus have realized the
whole aggregate of good and virtue for his kingdom, minus the
miseries of the present plan. They confirm this point by re-
minding the Christians that, according to them, there actually
is a splendid order of moral creatures for whom God has done
this very thing. The virtue and bliss of Gabriel are certainly
not inferior to those promised redeemed men; for their proto-
type "was made a little lower than the angels." And the ut-
most the Christian's Jesus dares to promise is that his re-
deemed shall be as angtlloi. Here, then, they urge, is a whole
world of happy and holy creatures, endowed with every de-
sirable virtue, including sympathy and fortitude, and yet with-
out any discipline of evil. Here, then, God has actually done
the thing for them without the permission of evil; why does
he not do the same thing for human creatures in the same way?
Thus the caviller "refuses to be comforted" by any such pal-
liation as this. Let us pause here and weigh this reply care-
fully. To what extent does it really damage the theodicy ad-
vanced? I candidly admit, that it does prove this class of pal-
liations to be insufficient as a full solution of the diffi'culty.
But I assert that the skeptic's position here is overweening and
sophistical in this: when he so ingeniously cites to us the fact
that God does cultivate in the elect angels, as free agents, a
complete bliss and purity without the discipline of evil, he cun-
ningly begs the question, whether God could succeed in this,

522 THE LATEST INFIDBLITT.

not only without evil among them, but without evil anywhere
in the universe. What mortal can certainly know but that one
of the means which God found necessary in the training of the
elect angels, was some wholesome example of suffering for sin
among some other order of free agents? But unless the skeptic
can certify us about this, his instance remains inconclusive. It
is more important to remark, that the facts cited in the above
theodicy do give us a pleasing probability, which points in the
direction of God's consistency in the permission of evil. For
the beautiful feature which is common in the results cited is
that we here see providence bringing good out of the evil. That
fact is undeniable. Does the skeptic rejoin, "Yes, but why didn't
your God bring about the whole good, minus the evil?" I
grant that this solemn question is not answered. But let it be
allowed for a moment, and for argunlent's sake, that God may
see a good reason, then the fact that he does bring good out
of the permitted evil will be of invaluable force to reinstate our
confidence in his infinite benevolence in the midst of the un-
solved mystery.

We proceed now to the next advance in the argument of
the theodicy. The th'eolo^ans set up these unquestionable
premises. There is no natural evil in the universe which is not
the result and penalty of inoral evil, that is to say, of sin. God's
higher glory is to be a moral governor of rational free agents.
If the creatures are to remain such they must be governed by
moral inducements. Should God depart from that method he
woBld derationalize them and reduce them to the grade of
bi^utes. Does any skeptic desire to see that done, and the crea-
tion stripped of its noblest order? Surely not. It follows, then,
that God, in leaving men their free agency, must follow out
punctually this plan of moral sanctions; and if his creatures
choose to sin, he must needs allow the penalty to follow with
the same regularity with which his rewards follow their vir-
tues. Moreover, God's distributive righteousness not only jus-
tifies, but requires this course from him as a moral ruler; as
the chief magistrate of the universe he is actually under moral
obligations to his own perfections to be impartial, even if wilful
transgressors do incur deserved miseries which his benevolence
would fain see them escape. And this view is powerfully rein-
forced by the further fact, that the larger part of the penal

THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 523

evils that follow transgression have not only a judicial con-
nection, but a necessary natural connection with their sins,
that, namely, of effects with their efficient causes. There is a
true sense in which it is not God that volunteers to punish sin,
but it is sin which punishes itself. "He that soweth to his flesh
shall of the flesh reap corruption" (literally perdition. "Sin
when it is finished bringeth forth death." To sum up, then,
God's permission of natural evil in the world is all accounted
for by the presence of moral evil, that is to say, voluntary
transgression, and the entrance of the moral evil is an incident
liable to emerge under any moral government of free agents.

Still our skeptics "refuse to be comforted." They retort,
that the Christian scheme ascribes to God regenerative power;
and that it holds that he can, and does, exercise it in a multitude
of cases, without infringing the free agency of its subjects, or
making any disruption in his general plan of governing them
by rational and moral means. If the Christian's scheme relin-
quished this claim it would commit logical suicide. For it holds
that the natural heart of men fallen in Adam is invariably de-
termined to self-will and ungodliness; hence if God did not ex-
ercise a sovereign power of renegeration, he could never get one
of them converted. They would all continue with absolute cer-
tainty to prefer the unconverted state. The scheme also claims
that God has pledged himself to keep all redeemed men and
elect angels in their heaven forever. But the voluntary apos-
tasy of any of them must result in their exclusion from heaven.
Now, therefore, if God had not the power of efficaciously de-
termining their holiness without subverting their free agency,
he has promised what he cannot be sure of performing, which
would be dishonest. Once more; the Christian scheme says,
that the promises of grace in answer to prayer are all yea and
amen. So that if God had not this power these promises would
also be uncandid. Now, then, since God has this power of pre-
serving the sanctity of the unfallen, and of sovereignly regen-
erating the fallen (a power which they say he frequently exer-
cises), and if he foresaw that whenever a free agent perverted
himself, his own high judicial obligations would require him- to
bring misery on that creature, if he is infinitely benevolent, and
truly prefers holiness to sinfulness in his creatures, why did he
not preserve them all in holiness as he is said to have preserved

524 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.

Gabriel? Or why does he not regenerate them at once instead
of coming under this painful necessity of employing penal mis-
eries, which he foresees, moreover, to be futile fDr curing their
sinfulness? Why does he not regenerate Satan instead of chas-
tising him endlessly, and that without bettering him? Herei*
a parent who has a delicate child; he foresees that this child is
liable to eat a certain rich but unwholesome viand with a mor-
bid appetite; he foresees also that the consequences will be a
colic. Ndw, this parent may be entirely unaWe to break the
pathological connection between a surfeit and a colic; but of
course he will use his superior physical strength to remove that
dish beyond the child's reach. If G-od is a parent, why dfles he
not act in a similar way? I take the ablest skeptics to witness
that I have extenuated nothing, but have stated their difficulty
as strongly as they ever state it.

There is here sDlemn difficulty arising from our contempla-
tion of the divine providence, and the thoughtful and benevo-
lent mind will recognize it most impressively. I expressly ad-
mit also that its exhaustive solution ie beyond human reach.
The dread mystery which remains after all the efforts of human
exiplanation is doubtless one instance of the exercise of that
high prerDgative of God in which he claims that secret things
belong to him, but the things which are revealed belong to us
and our children that we may do all the words of this law. If
once the existence and attributes of God are granted, then ev-
ery mind not wickedly and insanely arrogant will instantly ad-
mit'that it is reasDnable such a sovereign should have counsels
of his o'wn, a part of which it is his just prerogative to reserve
to himself. There is not an inferior chief magistrate on earth
that does not claim a right to the same. Moreover, it is impos-
sible that God should impart a full comprehensiDn of his whole
counsel to any mind that is finite and sinful, even if we sup-
posed him tD make the effort. Omnipotence itself could not put
an ocean of water into a quart pitcher. But because God has
not succeeded in working this impossibility in the aguDstic's
little clouded mind he flies off in a pet, and says he will not
have any God at all! If theism is true, the plan of God's admin-
istration is universal and everlasting. It must, therefore, be
literally infinite. Manifestly even he cannot put another mind
in full ipossession of it without makioig that mind also infinite.

THE LATEST INriDEHTT. 5"25

Whence it strictly follows that if these questioners oould be
gratified by giving them a religion without a mystery, verily
they "should be as gods." (The Bible reader knows the satanic
origin of that ambition.) This simple argument for modesty
of thought in our theology is powerfully reinforced by another
great fact, which is, that our acquaintance with all other sci-
ences is conditioned and limited in precisely the same way. And
every intelligent man knows that this is especially true of those
physical sciences which the agnostics. love to put in contrast
with theology for superior clearness and certitude. I would
like to know how it is that they are all perfectly willing to be-
lieve in the sciences of physics, chemistry, botany, zoology, as-
tronomy, notwithstanding the insoluble mysteries involved in
each, and refuse theism because of its mystery, when they ought
to know that this is the very science in which the largest mys-
teries must reasonably be expected. Is it because they have a
special dislike to the God whom theism discloses, sharpened
by the apprehension that he has a just dislike for them? Let
it be settled, then, that the real question in debate is not
whether anybody can clear up the whole mystery of God's per-
mission of evil, but whether that mystery justifies anybody in
repudiating his heavenly Father, and all the duties he owes to
him, which are the highest and holiest duties of his being.

Next, it must be settled which party is logically bound to
assume the burden of proof on this question. I shall now show
that it is the agnostic's. For why? Because the theist is in
possession of all the rightful presumptive probabilities on the
other side. The law gives every indicted man the right to as-
sume his presumptive inuDcency, and throws the burden of the
proof of his gailt upon the accuser. So here the facts pre-
viously demonstrated, or at least rendered presumably prob-
able in this theistic inquiry, all give the theist the right to the
initial presumptive. For instance, "the earth is full of the good-
ness of the Lord," that is, the a posteriori marks or signs of
the divine benevolence appear in every department of creation
and human experience. The whole structure of the human
faculties presents the most beautiful evidences of the benevol-
ence of "the Father of our spirits." Here is one point among
many: The psychologist finds in the human spirit a class of
affections called the malevolent affections, that is, their prac-

526 THE LATEST tNFtDBLlTt.

tical objective impulse is to hurt somebody; but they all have
this invariable trait in addition — even the few among them
which are sometimes justifiable — that they are also painful to
the person that feels them. There is a large opposite class call-
ed the benevolent affections; their objective impulse is t3 do
good to somebody, and these have this invariable trait, thai
they are pleasant in their exercise to the persons who feel them.
He is wilfully blind who cannot see the design of this pair of
general facts. It is obviously to discourage, and limit all hurt-
ful human actions, and to stimulate and reward all beneficent
human actions. In other words, the framer of our spirits is be-
nevolent. But the most extensive and grandest disclosure the-
ism makes about God is of his righteousness, and that both. in
natural and revealed theology.. The ways of providence are
always so devised that virtue is practical "beneficence, and vice
•practical maleficence. Therefore when theology tell us that
Grod likes the former and hates the latter more than he likes or
hates anything else, it is but saying he is supremely benevolent.
But we must not pursue this delightful line of argument.

Another great class of facts which authorize us to throw
the burden of proof upon the accusers of God's providence, is
that while he mysteriously permits evils, it is his dearest pre-
rogative to bring good out of those evils. Are we to hold, then,
that God's mysterious permission of evil has in his mind some
sufScient ground, both just and benevolent, though above the
reach of human comprehension? I say, Yes. Colonel Ingersoll
saysf No. Here is the issue clearly made up by the pleadings.
Now I say I am entitled to hold my side as presumptively true
Until it is positively disproved. I say the burden of proof lies
on him. He must assume it or the court will properly dismiss
the case. The court says to him: "Mr. Prosecutor, you undertake
to prove that an infinite God cannot have a conscious ground
for his voluntary permission of evil in his kingdom which
satisfies him as both just and benevolent. You must do all that,
sir, or we will put you out of court. Yonr opponent, the theist,
is under no more obligation to prove what that ground is than
a citizen indicted for horse-stealing is bound to prove afiBrm-
atively that he did not steal the hofse. He is entitled to stand
on the defensive; the prosecutor must prove that he did steal
the horse or he has no case. Sir, your duty here is similar."

THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 527

But what sort of testimony will this accuser need in order
to prove that affirmative? Manifestly it must be a testimony
which explores the whole extent of Grod's omniscience, and his
whole eternal prDvidence toward. the universe; otherwise it will
be a dead failure; for the defense will rejoin, that it is sup-
posable always that God has seen his sufBcient reason for his
permission of evil in that portion of his infinite counsel and
providence left unexplored by the witness. The accuser has as
yet done nothing effectual to exclude the presumptive hypDthe-
sis that God may be justifiable; but this is what he undertook
to do. He will say, perhaps, that his witnesses have proved, so
much namely: that Giod has full physical power to make and
keep all his creatures holy and happy, so that he cannot justify
himself in his permission of evil (as the Pelagian prDposes he
shall), by the plea of inability. I«t the accuser say that God
did not find the obstacle in the way of making his universe all
holy and happy in a lack of personal power. Granted. Bul<
may not his infinite mind have seen a proper obstacle in some
other quarter? That is the question. The man who under-
takes to deny that ought to be omniscient himself. In other
words, the accuser has undertaken an impossible task. He has
rashly undertaken to establish affirmatively a proposition which
none but infinite beings would be competent to discuss. The
decree of the court therefore is, "The indictment is not proved."

To this extent, then, the providence otG3d is not convicted
of wrong. I again admit candidly that its solemn mystery re-
mains, and a questioning mind is not yet furnished with an ex-
haustive solution.

There is a species of argumenium ad hominem, which, the
books on logic tell us, is unfair. It consists in attempting to
transfer S3me odium attaching to the adversary from his person
to his proposition and argument. I shall not use that form.
There is another kind which consists in holding the opponent
'bound to any inconvenient or absurd consequences which pro-
ceed logically 3Ut of his positions, though we ourselves do not
concede those positions. This kind is perfectly fair. The Sa-
viour himself used it against the Pharisees. I am entitled to
use it in this debate.

In this direction my first point is the following: The prac-
tical point of the cavil against God's permission of evil is, that.

528 THE LATEST INFIDKLITT.

If there is a God, he Is culpable for it. He is exceedingly blam-
able for all this misery which should have been prevented by
him. That is to say, the caviller is altogether in sympathy with
these creature sufferers as against their hard master. Of course,
then, this humane and sympathizing caviller is doing everything
in his power to minimize the hardships so blamably inflicted
upon his fellow-creatures. Of course he is steadily devoting his
best energies, his time, talents, and money, to repairing the
cruelties which this bad God has let loose upon poor fellow-
mortals, to comforting the sorrowful, to supplying their desti-
tutions, and especially to removing their ignorance and vices
and irreliglon, which he knows to be the practical proximate
cause of so much of these ^pitiable sorrows. Of course this just
accuser thinks he has no money to waste upon the pomps and
luxuries of life, no time for any needless amusements, no timo
or talent to expend upon personal ambitions or any selfish aim.
Of course he husbands all conscientiously for the sacred object
of minimizing these evils of human existence, and mending so
much as may be mended of the neglects of this cruel God. If
he does not, is he not himself like the cruel God? Is not this
accusation of God, coming from such as he, too much like
"Satan reproving sin?" Does this agnostic waste any money
upon Havana cigars and costly wines, which he would be better
without; upon expensive architecture and furniture, where he
sees more honored men than himself do with plainer; upon par-
tisan political campaigns, which, whichever way they go, only
leave the country more corrupt — sacred money which might
have been used to ease the sick of their agonies, to feed the
starving, to wipe the tears from the face of the orphan, to make
the desolate widow's heart sing for joy, to dissipate the ignor-
ance and vice and ungodliness from the heart of the youth who
must otherwise reap the harvest of temporal perdition from
these seeds? I bring no charge; but I submit that, unless the
agnostic is truly acting in this philanthropic way, decency
should close his mouth. For shame's sake let Mm not blame
God for the results of a neglect which he himself practices.

The most probable rejoinder of the agnostic will be, that
he sees the majority of the professed Christians also practicing
this unphilanthropic neglect. My answer is, that I admit with
sorrow that it is partly true. It is also true that nearly all the

l-HE LATBST INFIDELITY. 529

great and blessed charities of this poor world come from these
imperfect Christians. How much of them comes from agnos-
tics? I do not know. But let that pass. My word to the agnos-
tic is this : suppose we let this good exalted God alone, and turn
all the blows lof our criticisms on these inconsistent Christians.
I say to the agnostic, with all my heart, "Lay it on them well;
but let alone the heavenly Father whom they misrepresent."

My second point is this: When we showed in defense of
the divine providence that,, supposing free agents choose to sin,
their suffering ought to follow, and must follow, because judi-
cial fidelity requires it, and because sin is suffering; the reply
of the agnostic was this: that if there is a Gnod, he must have
foreseen that, and he ought to have felt bound to protect his
moral creatures from sinning by making their souls holy, or
else regenerating them when they made themselves unholy.
And we saw that this is really the agnostic's final stand in this
contest. I will now ask a typical agnostic, say Colonel Inger-
soll, "Sir, how 'would you like God to regenerate you?" Per-
haps he will seek to evade me by answering, "But I do not now
believe there is any God or regeneration." "Yes; but suppos-
ing you did believe them, how would you like to be regenerated
yourself? Stay, do not answer till I tell you what this means.
Regeneration means a complete revolution of the principles and
ends of life. It means surrendering ambition and worldinese
for spiritual good. It means the absolute subjugation of self-
will under a superior and sovereign will, which will order you
to obey and ask no questions. It means a thoroughgoing cru*
cifixion of natural pride. It means the instant surrender of all
cherished sins. It means the honest assumption for the whole
remaining life of a career of new duties, many of which are
known to be repugnant, and all arduous. It means praying,
and Bible-reading, and watching one's self. It means, in a word,
taking up for life the yoke of a complete self-denial and self-
surrender. Regenerate persons will tell you that still they
have found a new species of spiritual happiness in this arduous
cross-bearing. But that pleasure is to you purely visionary, as
you never felt anything like it. The Bible also tells you that
this regeneration will finally bring you, after a severe disci-
pline, the happiness of heaven. But that is all out of sight to
you, lying beyond the boundaries of this world, which now en-

530 tan LATEST INFIDBLITY.

close all your wishes and aspirations — so completely enclose
them that you remain in doubt whether it would not be tetter
for you to die like a pig than to have any future world. Now,
Sir, you told us there was a time when you had a speculative be-
lief in Grod and his gospel. At that time how would you have
liked this regeneratidn for yourself? Yon know very well that
you disliked and resisted it with every fibre of your heart
Sometimes when conscience seemed to be leading you towards
it, you recalcitrated, silently perhaps, but with the stubbornness
of a wild bull in a net. You jealously cherished your self-will,
yonr pride, your worldliness. You would have blushed to have
been caught praying. One chief source of that secret but in-
veterate enmity which your heart cherished toward the gospel
was just this: that it required of you such a regeneration and
also offered it to you as a boon. Well, you are the same man
yet in heart. The child has been father to the man. Could I
re-convince yonr speculative intellect that this gospel which
you have discarded is true, the desperate repugnance to its re-
generation would doubtless revive in you. Remember, now,
that we have agreed that there was one final method feasible
for God, by using which he could have rescued all his creatures
effectually from all moral and physical evil, namely, the regen-
eration I have described ; and the very gravamen of your accu-
sation against God is that he ought to employ that method in
■every case, but does not. But, lo! when this kind God comes
to you and says, 'Ingersoll, let me take you at your word; let
me (regenerate you, here and now, and thus bestow on you this
glorious and eternal security,' you are violently opposed to his
doing it. Here is the one and only way which remained to God
for avoiding the permission of any evil in his kingdom, and to
this way you have as to yourself a violent objection. There is
one medicine with which God oould have cured the whole mat-
ter. You have been blaming him vehemently because he has
not administered it to everybody; but when he offers the cup
to you, you repel it with abhorrence. Do not you think. Sir,
that for shame's sake it is time for you to stop blaming him?"
I have just asserted the innate enmity of the human heart
to God's law. Here is a consideration which has a vital influ-
ence on this discussion, but for which agnostics never make
allowance. Yet, "whether they will hear, or whether they will

THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 531

forbear," it is the right of the Christian pursuing this discus-
sion, and his high duty, to bear his serious testimony to this
indisputable fact of human nature. The point it contains is
very plain, that a per^Dn who has a fixed and wrongful hatred
to a government cannot be a just and correct critic of it. What
man endued with common sense will gainsay that? And the
agnostics stubbornly refuse this caution and protest their im-
partiality, when to everybody else but themselves their invet-
erate hostility to the holiness of God's law is apparent! But I
claim m3re. We are all voluntary culprits. We are all obnox
ious to the displeasure of the divine Judge. If his grace does
not arrest us we all continue pertinacious transgressors, and this
justifies his continued retributions. Now, every item of that
aggregate of misery which presents the pretext of the cavil, is
the just judicial consequence of the creature's own voluntary
sin. There is n3t a pang of natural evil in the moral universe
which is not the appropriate fruit of transgres"sion. Hence,
however hard to bear that natural evil may be, the culprits are
certainly not the parties that are entitled to accuse the govern-
ment. As soon as they appreciate their own guilt they always
learn that this is outrageously unseemly. If any criticism of
the divine management is to be made by any finite intellect,
it onght t3 be at least an unfallen intellect, without sin of its
own. The effectual way, then, of terminating these indict-
ments of God would be for the agnostics to learn the real qual-
ity and aggravations of their own sins of heart, nature, and life.
And could I teach them this, I should be conferring on them*
the most inestimable blessing. Not only would this sinful de-
bate end absolutely, but ttis righteous humiliation of their own
spirits would .prove to them the beginning of everlasting good.
Job was tempted to be an agnostic, and to make tedious efforts
to argue himself int3 the assertion of God's harshness. His ef-
fectual cure came only when he was compelled to say: "I
have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but now mine
eye seeth thee; wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust
and ashes." The best wish I can offer to all the agnostics is,
that they may become honest enough with themselves to look
fairly at G3d until they appreciate his infinite sovereignty, wis-
dom, justice, and benevolence, and learn in the light of his holi-
ness to see the exceeding sinfulness of their own sin. All this

632 tHE tAtEST INFIDEUTY.

debate will then be happily ended for them as well as for us.

One more point remains of this branch of my reply. I make
it by asking them what will be gained for them and their fel-
low-men if they establish their indictment? What will they
have proved? This: that the theistic scheme of the universe is
incredible, because of the prevalence in it of this dreadful mass
of natural and moral evil. That is, the doctrine of a personal,
rational God is abolished. What hypothesis of the universe is
left us? Only the materialistic and mechanical one. The flow
of events in the universe is not directed by any personal or
moral will at all. (Certainly our wills are impotent to control
it.) All is governed by natural laws, which can mean nothing
more than the irrevocable methods of blind natural forces.
These forces are unknowing and reasonless; they are resistless;
they are eternal; they are unchangeable. They can no more
be prayed to than the whirlwind can. Thus the agnostic, in re-
jecting theism, unavoidably gives us the scheme of a universal
mechanical fate. His universe is but an immense machine.

Now, I solemnly ask him: By forcing upon us this ghastly
doctrine, has he diminished one iota of this volume of miseries,
the conception of which so distresses us all? Does he stop the
flow of a single tear? Does he arrest a single pang of disease?
Does he diminish by one unit the awful catalogue of deaths?
Does he take anything from the reality of any single human
bereavement? Is there one particle of agency in this doctrine
to check in any soul that sinfulness which is the spring of all
ouf woes? None. Even agnostic arrogance does not dare to
claim it. On his scheme every evil which he so bitterly objects
against God's scheme remains. All that he has done is to rob
suffering humanity of its sole true consolation, which is found
in that fact the gospel alone shows us, that it is the darling
prerogative of the Father of mercies to bring good out of this
sore evil for all who will accept his grace and make it work
out, bitter as it may be now, "a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory." Thus their doctrine can take nothing from
the miseries of mankind; all it can do is to rob men of the only
possible solace, and to tell them while they suffer that their
woes are as futile of better results as they are inevitable. In
a word, they give us as the true conception of our existence this
somber picture, which F. D. Strauss substantially avows at the

THB LATEST INPIDELITT. 533

end of his great agnostic argument. Our world is a huge and
terrible machine of stone and iron; its motive power eternal,
resistless, and blind; its revolutions impossible to be ever ar-
rested or changed in the least, and the corn between its upper
and nether millstones is an ever-flowing stream of human
hearts, with all their precious affections and hopes and keen
sensibilities, bleeding and crushed under the remorseless grind.
And to the yawning jaws of this hellish mill each one of us
knows he is traveling, and must be caught by them sooner or
later.

And this is the scheme pressed upon us by gentlemen who
affect too much humane sensibility to endure the harsh injustice
of God's gospel! What, is this scheme rejected for this doc-
trine of despair? I repeat, it is the one which, while it recog-
nizes God's holy sovereignty and right to punish sin, and to
keep in his own breast the dread secrets of his infinite purpose,
teaches us his wise, merciful, and holy control over this terrible
blind machine of nature, and offers to all who do not contuma-
ciously reject his goodness an almighty redemption which ter-
minates these sufferings of time into eternal blessings. May
God save us all from such humanity as that of the agnostics!

Proceeding now to a more independent line of attack, I re-
quest the reader to inspect the process of the agnostic's logic at
Us cardinal place. It is simply this: the line of argument for
the being, attributes, and providence of God leads him up to a
great mystery, which cannot be fully resolved for him. What
then? He will stop and weigh the amount of validity it ma/
■contain, notwithstanding the mystery in its conclusion. Now,
all men would deem this mere logical lunacy if applied to any
other line of evidence. We know very well that evidence ap-
parently valid which leads to an inevitable selfrcontradiction is
defeated by its own result, whether we can put our finger upon
its flaw or not. We justly claim that it cannot be correct. This,
in fact, is the quality of the disproof of an argument by the re-
ductio ad ahsurdum. But manifestly the case which the agnos-
tic has made against theism is wholly different. A mystery in
our conclusion is not a necessary self-contradiction; that it can-
not be shown to be such, follows from the very fact that it is a
mystery. Since we cannot comprehend it, we cannot assert its
contradictoriness. And this I confirm by the assertion that ev-

534 THE LATK8T INFIDELITY.

ery other line of scientific evidence, in every department of hu-
man linowledge, leads sooner or later to some sucli insoluble
mystery. So that, if the agnostic's method of procedure aigainst
theism were proper, he ought to reject every science known ,to
man and announce himself an absolute ignoramus.

For instance, what phjsicist can answer this question:
What is electricity? There is good and sufficient empirical evi-
dence that this mysterious energy exists; but what is it? Why
does it imbue some material 'bodies and not others? Why do
only a few conduct it fully? If it is ponderable matter, why
cannot the chemist weigh it in his most delicate scales? If it
is not, how does it hit hard enough to rive the gnarled oak?
Every good physicist knows he cannot answer these questions.
Every agnostic, then, ought to say, if he will be consistent, and
proceed in physics as he does in theology, "I will have none of
this science of electricity. I will not avail myself of its con-
veniences, lightning-rod, telegraph, electric light, electric mo-
tors. I will not believe in electricity; even if the lightning
strikes me I will not believe in it." The intelligent reader
knows that if I cared to detain him, I could cite instances equal-
ly pungent from every one of those physical sciences which ag-
nostics love to place in contrast with theology for their superior
clearness. Now my point is, that no man can proceed upon this
wilful method, which the agnostics would have us apply to the
theistic argument, without incurring the charge of lunacy. But
they ought to be more willing to apply that wanton method in
physics than in theology; because in the latter we have more
ground to expect mysteries from the infinitude of the Being
whom we study. When a line of evidence leads a sensible man
to a startling aud mysterious conclusion, what does he do? He
would ^be prompted to revise the evidence carefully. That is
all. If he finds it valid, he admits the conclusion in spite of the
mystery. The sensible man 'bestows credence upon any propo-
sition in any science, not because he comprehends the predicate,
but because he apprehends perspicuous evidence supporting the
copula. Now the several lines of evidence, rational and scrip-
tural, for the being, attributes, and providence of God, are of
invincible force; they cannot be resisted in their own appro-
priate spheres. Every successive attempt to weaken them in
that way perishes under the light of true philosophy. I con-

THE LATEST INFIDELITT. 535

elude this point by firmly asserting that agnostics have no right
thus to discount the whole force of this evidence, treating it as
UDn-existent, when it has so substantial an existence, not be-
cause they can refute it, but simply because they do not like its
result. The process is utterly illicit.

Superficial opponents of God's retributive justice frequent-
ly argue that this is a different attribute from his love, and in-
deed so antithetic that they cannot find a place for it in a na-
ture declared to be infinite love. A little correct thinking will
show that this reasoning is not only groundless, but absurd.
In fact, the principle of righteousness in every moral 'being is
not dual, "but single. The plurality of its actions arises solely
from the contrast of the objects to which the principle directs
itself. The magnetic needle in the compass is endued with one
energy or magnetic principle, uDt two. Tihis single energy will
cause either end of the needle to act in opposite ways to the two
opposite poles of the earth; and because the upper end is at-
tracted towards the north pole, for that very reason it is re-
pelled from the south pDle. I prove it by this fact, that it is
impossible to make a needle such that its upper end would be
attracted to the north pole and not repelled from the south pole.
Should any sailor ttell you that he had such a needle, nobody
would believe him. This instance presents' us with a correct
parallel to the action of the moral principle in a moral agent.
The principle is and can be only one. It acts in opposite ways
towards virtuous and vicious objects, because it is one, and be-
cause it rationally apprehends the objects as oppDsites. Hencfe
it follows, that this central principle would not be capable of
acting in the amiable way of approbation, complacency and re-
wai'd towards a virtuous object, untess it were certain from its
own nature to act in the opposite and severer way of reprehen-
sion towards towards a vicious and repulsive object. I repeat,
that unless this principle is so constituted as to repel the re-
pulsive action, it cannot be so constituted as to be attracted to
the attractive action. One might as well talk of a yard-stick
with only one end, or of a (house with its south side, and no
north side. Every man when he thinks knows that this is the
condition upon which all correct moral principle exists, and he
is incredulous about any other. Let me construct a little para-
ble. I ask the agnostic, or the universalist, to come with me

536 THE LATEST INTIDELITT

and watch the proceedings of a certain stranger, of whom all we
know as yet is that he claims a high reputation for amiability,
philanthropy, equity and charity. He tells us that it is a peren-
nial pleasure to him to witness and reward all benevolent and
generous actions. I say to him, "Stranger, so far, well. I must
now point you an opposite object. There stands a young repro-
bate, the son of a devoted widowed mother, who is known to
have robbed her of her little property, to neglect her wants in
her destitution, to heap i'eproaches and curses upon her, and
even to strike her venerable face. What are your feelings
towards that object?"" We suppose the stranger to answer, "Oh,
sir, I assure you I am too thoroughly amiaWe to have any feel-
ing about it. True, I see nothing in it to admire, but I am too
affectionate to detest anything. I have no feeling at all towards
that reprobate." I ask, would anybody believe him? Or, if we
believe his statement that he felt no reprehension for so de-
testable a son, must we not set him down also as a cold-blood-
ed villain, whose pretended charity was all sheer hypocrisy?
Such is the judgment of every man's common sense.

Let us pass now from the virtuous .principle in man to
Ood. I assert that my argument only 'becomes the stronger.
The perfectness of God's virtues only renders it more conclu-
sive, because the purity, the equity, the truth, the love of God
are infinite. It is therefore only the more certain that the cen-
tral principle which makes him approve and love the virtuous
must prompt him to reprehend the vicious. Men vainly imag-
ine*that it would be a delightful theology to have a God so
amiable as to be sure to reward all good things, tout also too
amiable to be capable of punishing any evil thing. They de-
mand an impossibility. The only way to reach it would be to
have a God without any moral qualities at all. Who would
wish to live under an omniscient and omnipotent Ruler who
was not capable of knowing or caring whether he was reward-
ing the wicked and punishing the good? If we must desire
such moral principle in our Supreme Ruler as will be always
certain of acting amiably and justly towards the good, then
we must be willing that he shall be equally certain to repre-
hend the wicked. If they would have a God too amiable to
maintain a hell, they must accept one who is also too careless
and heartless to provide any heaven.

THE LATEST INPIDELITT. 537

Does one say that still the mystery of God's permission of
evil is not fully explained? I did not promise to explain it
fully, which I believe will never be done in this world. What
I prDmised was to satisfy the just and humble mind that God
has his suflScient explanation, which we are sure is consistent
with his wisdom, benevolence, and holiness, without knowiug
what it is. Natural theology gives sufficient ground for this
consoling conclusion from its splendid evidences that he is all-
wise, righteous, and "benevolent, which have their prepDuder-
ating force notwithstanding the unanswered question, and es-
pecially from this important trait, which runs through the
whole mystery; that the plan of his providence is to bring good
out of the evil.

But revealed theology gives us a crDwning and all-suffi-
cient satisfaction. It is found in the fact that God is so in-
finite in benevolence and mercy, that at his own mere option
he has made the supreme sacrifice for the redemption of his
enemies. He provides this infinite blessing for them at the
cost of the humiliation and death Df his eternally begotten
and co-equal Son, whom he knows to outrank, in the dimen-
sions of his infinite 'being and in his moral desert, all his ra-
tional creatures combined together. The gospel tells us that
this transcendent sacrifice will not redeem the apostate an-
gels, and will UDt receive full application to all human beings.
These are awful truths. But, be the cause of this limitation
found where it may, it cannot be sought in any lack or stint of
goodness in God. For had there been any such stint in his
nature, one fibre of neglect, or injustice, or cruelty, this would
inevitably have prevented the supreme sacrifice for the behoDf
of any one. There is the triumphant theodicy in the infinite
love which prompted redemption — redemption as apprehended
by the evangelical trinitarian. There, no doubt, is the supreme
glory of this gospel by which the apostle tells us God is mak-
ing known to all worlds his manifold wisdom through the
church of ransomed men. I will set forth the point of this
argument in a closing parable. We see a surgeon enter a dwell-
ing. A mother calls to her pallid, limping child, and seizes
her in her arms. The surgeon produces one of those treacher-
ous cases — so beautiful without with their ornamented WDods
and gilded clasps, so terrible within with the cold glitter of

638 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.

forceps, bistouries, amputating-knives, and bone-saws. The
child beholds with wide-eyed wonder and then with terror, ere
she perceives that these instruments are to be emplayed on her
'body. As the surgeon approaches she appeals to her mother
with agonizing screams and tears : "Oh, mother, mother, save
me!" But we see the woman, with stern eye, compressed lips,
and pallid cheek, bare the child's swollen joint, and hold her
struggling in her relentless arms, while the cruel knife cuts the
tender skin, carves the bleeding flesh, and pierces even to the
very marrow of the diseased joint. Is this a mother or a tig-
ress? The simple explanation is, that she is a true mother,
wise and tender, who knows that this severe remedy is needed
to save the precious life of her child, who would otherwise be
the victim of a slow, loathsome, and torturing death. Has she
not shown the truest love? and has not her fidelity cost her in-
ward pangs of sympathy more cruel than the bodily smart of
the surgery, which she has heroically borne for love's sake?
But now steps forward the caviller, and says: "Stop, this
woman is herself a wondrous leech. She knows all healing lo-
tions, and all the herbs of virtue, some of which would have
cured the diseased limb without a pang while the child slept;
or, at least, she could have secured for her child the uncon-
sciousness which chloroform gives during the operation. Why,
then, did she not use the gentler means to save this life, when
she had them at her option? No, she must ibe intrinsically
cruel and heartless. She must find pleasure in the gratuitous
sneering of her own child." I am compelled to reply : "I do
not know her reasons. Her social station is far above mine.
She has never taken me into her domestic confidence. I had no
right to demand that she should. But I can testify t3 another
fact. A few months ago the cry of fire drew me to a dwelling
not far from this place which was wrapped in flames, and evi-
dently near the flnal crash. The parents had ibeen busy rescu-
ing their children, and, for the mo'm'jnt, supposed they had
saved them all. But a cry issued from another window. A lit-
tle white-robed figure was seen at it through the eddying smoke,
crying: 'Father, mother! O save me.' All declared that it was
too late. Even the father, amidst his 'bitter tears, acquiesced.
But I saw the mother tear herself from the restraining hands
of the firemen, who told her that any effort at rescue was mad-

THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 539

ness and suicide, leaving the shreds of her raiment in their
clutches, and dart up the fuming stairway. The stern men
turned their faces away from the horror and stood wringing
their hands. But in a minute the woman returned, her silken
tresses blazing, her garments on fire, one of her fair cheeks
scorched, shrivelled by the blast, one eye blistered in the socket,
but with her child in her arms wrapped safely in a blanket.
After only pausing to extinguish the flames that were threat-
ening her life, I saw her fall on her knees, and say: 'Thank
God; I have saved my child.' Pass around this lady's chair,
Mr. Caviller, you will see upon the other side of her face the
scars of that rescue which, in one moment, 'blighted the beauty
of her young motherhood for life. This is that mother; and
this is the same child. Now, sir, I cannot satisfy your curiosity
about the disuse of the chloroform, but I know this 'heroic
mother's heart has its reason. For why? Because I saw her
make the supreme sacrifice for this child. After such a demon-
stratiDn of boundless love, your cavil is impertinent, if not
brutal."

THE AHRACTIONS OF POPERY.'

Dr. John H. Rice, with the intuition of a great mind, warn-
ed Presbyterians against a renewed prevalence of popery in our
Protestant land. This was when it was so insignificant among
us as to be almost unnoticed. Many were surprised at his pro-
phecy, and not a few mocked; but time has fulfilled it. Our
leaders from 1830 to 1860 understood well the causes of this
danger. They were diligent to inform and prepare the minds of
their people against it. Hence General Assemblies and Synods
appointed annual sermons upon popery, and our teachers did
their best to arouse the minds of the people. Now, all this has
mainly passed away, and we are relaxing our resistance against
the dreaded foe just in proportion as he grows more formidable.
It has become the fashion to condemn controversy and to affect
the widest charity for this and all other foes of Christ and of
souls. High Presbyterian authority even is quoted as saying,
that henceforth our concern with Romanism should be chiefly
irenical! The figures presented 'by the census of 1890 are con-
sti-ued in opposite ways. This gives the papists more than four-
teen millions of adherents in the United States, where ninety
years ago there were but a few thousands. Such Protestamt
journals as think it their interest to play sycophants to public
opinion try to persuade us that these figures are very consoling;
because, if Rome had kept all the natural increase of her immi-
grations the numbers would have been larger. But Rome points
to them with insolent triumph as prognostics of an assured vic-
tory over Protestantism on this continent. Which will prove
correct?

Both logic and Holy Writ teach us that "the thing which
hath been is the thing which shall be." Like causes must be
expected to produce like effects. For Presbyterians of all oth-
ers to discount the perpetual danger from Romanism is thor-
oughly thoughtless and rash. We believe that the Christianity

1 Appeared In Th^ Preabyterian (Quarterly, April, 1894. 640

THE ATTEA0TION8 01" POPBBT. 541

left by the apostles to the priinitive church was essentially what
we now call Presbyterian and Protestant. Prelacy and popery
speedily began to work in the bosom of that community and
steadily wrought its corruption and almost its total extirpa-
tion. Why should not the same cause tend to work the same
result again? Are we truer or wiser Presbyterians than those
trtiined'by the apostles? Have the enemies of truth become less
skillful and dangerous by gaining the experience of centuries?
The popish system of ritual and doctrine was a gradual growth,
which, modifying true Christianity, first perverted and then ex-
tinguished it. Its destructive power has resulted from this:
that it has not been the invention of any one cunning and hos-
tile mind, but a gradual growth, modified by hundreds or thou-
sands of its cultivators, who were the most acute, learned, sel-
fish, and anti-Christian spirits of their generations, perpetually
retouched and adapted to every weakness and every attribute
of depraved human nature, until it became the most skillful
and pernicious system of error which the world has ever known.
As it has adjusted itself to every superstition, every sense of
guilt, every foible and craving of the depraved human heart,
so it has travestied with consummate skill every active princi-
ple of the gospel. It is doubtless the ne plus ultra of religious
delusion, the final and highest result of perverted human facul-
ty guided by the sagacity of the great enemy.

This system has nearly conquered Christendom once. He
who does not see that it is capable of conquering it again is
blind to the simplest laws of thought. One may ask. Does it
not retain sundry of the cardinal doctrines of the gospel, mon-
otheism, the trinity, the hypostatic union, Christ's sacrifice, the
sacraments, the resurrectioh, the judgment, immortality? Yes;
in form it retains them, and this because of its supreme cun-
ning. It retains them while so wresting and enervating as to
rob them mainly of their sanctifying power, because it designs
to spread its snares for all sorts of minds of every grade of
opinion. The grand architect was too cunning to make it, like
his earlier essays, mere atheism, or mere fetishism, or mere
polytheism, or mere pagan idolatry; for in these forms the trap
only ensnared the coarser and more ignorant natures. He has
now perfected it and baited it for all types of humanity, the
most refined as well as the most imbruted.

542 THE ATTBAOTIONB OF POPEBT.

I. Bomanism now enjoye iti our country certain important
advantages, which I may style legitimate, in this sense, that our
decadent, hall-corrupted Protestantism 'bestowsi these adTan-
tages upon pur enemy, so that Rome, in employing them, only
uses what we ourselves give her. In other words, there are
plain .points upon which Bome claims a favorable comparison
as against Protestantism; and her claim is correct, in that the
latter is blindly and criminally betraying her own interests and
duties.

(1.) A hundred years ago French atheism gave the world
the Jacobin theory of political rights. The BiWe had been
teaching mankind for three thousand years the great doctrine
of men's moral equality 'before the universal Father, the great
basis of all free, just, and truly republican forms of civil so-
ciety. Atheism now travestied this true doctrine by her mor-
tal heresy of the absolute equality of men, asserting that every
human being is naturally and inalienably entitled to every
right, power, and prerogative in civil society which is allowed
to any man or any class. The Bible taught a liberty which con-
sists in each man's unhindered privilege of having and doing
just those things, and no others, to which he is rationally and
morally entitled. Jacobinism taught the liberty of license —
every man's natural right to indulge his own absolute will; and
it set up this fiendish caricature as the object of sacred worship
for mankind. Now, democratic Protestantism in these United
States has become so ignorant, so superficial and wilful, that
it Confounds the true republicanism with this deadly heresy of
Jacobinism. It has ceased to know a difference. Hence, when
the atheistic doctrine begins to bear its natural fruits of li-
cense, insubordination, communism, and anarchy, this bastard
democratic Protestantism does not know how to retouke them.
It has recognized the parents; how can it consistently condemn
the children? Now, then, Rome proposes herself as the stable
advocate of obedience, order, and permanent authority through-
out the. ages. She shows her practical power to govern men, as
she says, through their consciences (truth would say, through
their superstitions). Do we wonder that good citizens, begin-
ning to stand aghast at these elements of confusion and ruin,
the spawn of Jacobinism, which a Jacobinized Protestantism
cannot control, should look around for some moral and reli-

THB ATTBAOTIONB 01* POP£BT. 543

gious system capable of supporting a flrm social order? Need
we be surprised that when Borne steps forward, saying, "1 have
been through the centuries the upholder of order," rational men
should be inclined to give her their hand? This high advantage
a misguided Protestantism is now giving to its great adversary.
(2.) The Reformation was an assertipn of liberty of
thought. It asserted for all mankind, and secured for the Prot-
estant nations, each man's right to think and decide for himself
upon his religious creed and his duty towards his God, in the
fear of God and the truth, unhindered by human power, politi-
cal or ecclesiastical. Here, again, a part of our Protestantism
perverted the precious truth until the "manna 'bred worms, and
stank." Rationalistic and skeptical Protestantism now claims,
instead of tbat righteous liberty, license to dogmatize at the
bidding of every caprice, every impulse of vanity, every false
philosophy, without any responsibility to either truth or moral
obligation. The result has been a diversity and confusion of
pretended creeds and theologies among nominal Protestants,
which perplexes and frightens sincere, but timid, minds. Ev-
erything seems to them afloat upon this turbulent sea of licen-
tious debate. They are fatigued and alarmed; they see no end
of uncertainties. They look around anxiously for some safe
and fixed foundation of credence. Rome comes forward and says
to them, You see, then, that this Protestant liberty of thought is
fatal license; the Protestant's "rational religion" turns out to be
but poisonous rationalism, infidelity wearing the mask of faith.
Holy Mother Church offers you the foundation of her infallibil-
ity, guaranteed by the indwelling of the Holy Ghost. She Shows
you that faith must ground itself in implicit submission, and
not in human inquiry. She pledges herself •for the safety of
your soul if you simply submit; come, then, "trust and be at
rest." Many are the weary souls who accept her invitations;
and these not only the weak and cowardly, but sometimes the
'brilliant and gifted, like a Cardinal Newman. For this result
a perverted Protestantism is responsible. If all nominal Prot-
estants were as honest in their exercise of mental liberty as the
fear of God and the loyalty to truth should make them; if they
were as humble and honest in construing and obeying God's
word in his Bible, as papists profess to be in submitting to the
authority of the Holy Mother Church, honest inquirers would

544 THE ATTBA0T1ON8 Of POPKRY.

never be embarrassed, and would never be befooled into suppos-
ing that the words of a pope could furnish a more comfortable
foundation for faith than the word of God.

(3.) To the shame of our damaged Protestantism, popery
remains, in some essential respects, more faithful to God's truth
than its rival. For instance, whilp multitudes of scholars, call-
ing themselves Protestant Christians, are undermining the doc-
trine of the inspiration of the Scriptures, Bome holds fast to it
in her catechisms and formal declarations. True, she claims in-
spiration for others than the prophets, evangelists, and apostles
for her popes, namely, and prelates, holding to "the apostolic
■succession." But if one must err, it is better to err by excess
than by defect on a point lilie this, where negation cuts the
blinded soul of man off absolutely from the divine guidance.
Thousands of pretended Protestant believers are advancing
their destructive criticism to assert that the Pentateuch is a
literary fraud. Bome firmly maintains that it is Grod's own
worli through Moses. A thousand deceitful arts are plied to
degrade the conception of inspiration, as giving only thoughts,
and not the words, or as consisting only in an elevation of the
consciousness 'by poetic genius, and such like treacherous
views. Rome still teaches the old-fashioned, honest view.
What right have such deceitful Protestants to scold Rome for
dishonesty of those historical and spiritual impostures upon
which she founds the claims of the popes? Truly, they are
dirty enough; for the forged decretals, for instance, too much
ooiitempt and reprehension cannot be expressed. But they are
not a whit dirtier than the mental dishonesty of the men who,
after asserting that they have proved the Pentateuch mostly a
literary fraud, done by priestcraft more than a thousand years
after its pretended date, still assure us that its value as Scrip
ture and divine rule of faith is not wounded. These recent jus-
tifiers of pious fraud cannot convict the older ones. The old
imposture, like a rotten roof, has become moss-grown with age,
and is picturesque and venerable in many eyes. The new im-
posture stands ugly and malodorous in its rank freshness.

Again, multitudes of pretended Protestants utterly deny
the trinity, the very corner-stone of a theology of redemption.
Bome affirms it in all the fullness of the creeds of Nice, Ohalce-
don, and Athanasius. Myriads of pretended Protestants revere
their own ethical philosophy so much more than they do their

THE ATTEAdTlOirS OF POPBET. 545

God that they must needs utterly reject Christ's vicarious satis-
faction for the guilt of sin. Rome continues to assert it, iu
spite of spurious philosophy, although she does add to it super-
stitious claims of human merit. Myriads of our men have be-
come such "advanced thinkers" that they cannot away with
supernatural regeneration. Borne teaches it invariably, even if
it is in the form of baptismal regeneration, and still ascribes it
to the power of G-od. Such are a few of the biting contrasts.
We cannot wonder that many, even of honest and reverent
minds, w>hen they witness this ruthless destruction of the es-
sentials of the gospel, draw two plain inferences. One is, that
all such men pretending to be Protestant believers are, in fact,
nothing but infidels wearing a mask, probably for the sake of
the loaves and fishes as yet connected with the clerical calling;
so that it is mere impudence for such men to assume to warn
them against popish impostures — rather too near akin to Satan
reproving sin. The other is, that the Romanist theologians
must ihave been right in asserting, ever since the days of Luth-
er, that our Protestant way of esta'blishing a divine rule of faith
by a rational and explicit credence must turn out nothing but
rationalistic infidelity. Souls which value a divine redemp-
tion for man shudder as they behold this wild havoc of every-
thing characteristic of a saving gospel ; and they naturally ex-
claim, "There is no security except in going back to that old
foundation, implicit trust in the witness of 'Holy Mother
Church' to the Scriptures!" Now, true Protestants know that
this conclusion is wretchedly sophistical, but it is dreadfully
natural for honest, half-informed men.

(4.) The best argument for any creed is the godly living of
its professors. Protestantism used to have a grand and victor-
ious advantage on that point. She is ceasing to wield it. The
wealth begotten by her very virtues of industry, thrift, and
probity has debauched many of her children. "Jeshurun has
waxen fat, and kicked." An unbounded flood of luxury sweeps
Protestant families away. A relaxed and deceitful doctrine pro-
duces its sure fruits of relaxed and degraded morals. Church
discipline is nearly extinct. Meantime spurious revivalism, re-
lying upon all species of vulgar clap-trap and sensational arti-
fice, upon slang rhetoric and the stimulating of mere animal
sympathies, instead of the pure word and spirit of God, is hur-

546 tfiB ATTBAOTtONS OF POPBElT.

rying tens of thousands of dead souls into the Protestaint
churches. These evils have gone so far that a profession of
faith in these churches has come to mean nearly as little as a
professed conformity to Rome means. No shrewd man regards
such a profession as any su£Bcient guarantee for truth or com-
mon honesty in dealing. The lawyers tell us that litigation un-
masks about as much intended fraud, purposed extortion, and
loose swearing in these church members as in other people.
Worldly conformity is so general that the line between the
church and the world has become nearly as indistinct as that
between s.piritual and profane living in the Romish communion.
Meantime, Rome gets up no spurious revivals; she works her
system with the steadiness and perseverance which used to
characterize pastoral effort and family religion among Presby
terians. It is true that her cultus is intensely ritualistic; but,
at least, it does not offend decent people iby irreverent slang;
her worship is liturgical, but her liturgies, however erroneous
in doctrine, are, at least, genteel, and marked by aesthetic dig-
nity. Rome does not venture on sham miracles very much iu
these United States. It is true she has her spurious relics and
other superstitious impostures for impressing the people; but
wherein are they less of human artifices and less deceptive than
the machinery of our pretended revivals, with their marchings,
hand-shakings, choruses, and ephemeral conversions? Rome's
confessional is, indeed, a terrible organ of spiritual tyranny;
but still it is a strong organ of church discipline, and it is stead-
ily employed as such in every Romish chapel. The average
Protestant church member feels that any assumption of real
presby terial authority over him by his pastor would be an im-
pertinence, which he would resent with scorn. The Romish
priest still wields a potent, ghostly authority over his people.
One may cry that he wields it by virtue of superstition, by the
threat of withholding his absolution or extreme unction. Yet
he wields it, and usually for the credit of his church. He
teaches his members to practice the forms of their daily de-
votion with diligence and regularity, holding out a powerful
motive in the promise of merit thus wrought out. The Prot-
estant may exclaim. These are but machine prayers, vain repe-
titions told off by the dozen along with the beads! Very true,
the most of it may be very poor stuff; but nothing can be quite

THE AOTRA,OT10N6 Ol" POPBltT. 547

SO poor and worthless as the living of many Protestant mem
bers, who have no family altar and no closet, who say no pray-
ers either in form or in spirit, and who have no conscience of
keeping either Sa'hbaths or saints' days. It is a very bad thing
in the Romanist to join the worship of Mary and the saints with
that of God; but we surmise that it is a still worse thing to be
a practical atheist, and statedly to worship nothing, neither
saint nor Q-od, as many an enrolled member of a Protestant
church now does.

The Romanist's machine prayers and vain repetitions have,
at least, this tendency, to sustain in his soul some slight habit
of religious reverence, and this is better than mere license of
life. While the two communions wear these aspects, we jieed
not wonder that those Americans, at least, whose early preju-
dices lean towards Rome should honestly regard her as the bel-
ter mother of piety and morals.

(5.) We Protestants are also giving away to Rome another
powerful influence over honest and thoughtful Christian minds.
This we do by secularizing our whole State education. The bulk
of the Protestants in the United States have betrayed them-
selves, through their partisan political zeal, to an attitude con-
cerning the rearing of youth which must ever be preposterous
and untenable for sincere Christians. The statesmen and di-
vines of the Reformation, the Luth-ers, Calvins, Knox€s, Win-
throps, and Mathers, were strong advocates of State education ;
they were such (because they believed in the close union of
church and State; because their co'nception of the State wfts
thoroughly theocratic. Had these men been asked. What think
you of a theory of education which should train the understand-
ing without instructing the religious conscience; which should
teach young immortal spirits anything and everything except
God; which should thus secularize education, a function essen-
tially spiritual, and should take this parental task from the
fathers and mothers, on whom God imposed it, to confer it on
the human and earthly organism, expressly secular and god-
less? they would have answered with one voice. It is pagan, ut-
terly damnable. But they thought that the State might edu-
cate, because the State with them was Christian. Thus State
education was firmly grafted into the Puritan colonies. Nfew
England, with her usual aggressiveness, has pushed her usage

648 tHE ATTEAOTIONS OS" POtEKT.

all over the empire. Meantime the Jeff^rsonian doctrine of the
absolute severance and independence of churah and State, of
the entire secularity of the State, and the absolutely equal
rights, 'before the law, of religious truth and error, of pagan-
ism, atheism, and Christianity, has also established itself in all
the States; and still the politicians, for, electioneering ends,
propagate this State education everywhere. By this curious
circuit "'Christian America" has gotten herself upon this thor-
oughly pagan ground; forcing the education of responsible,
moral, and immortal beings, of which religion must ever be the
essence, into the hands of a gigantic human agency, which re-
solves that it cannot and will not be religious at all. Surely
some great religious body will arise in America to lift its Chris-
tian protest against this monstrous result! But, lo! the chief,
the only organized protest heard in Ainerica comes from the
Bomish Church. It is she who stands forth pre-eminent, almost
single-handed, to assert the sacred rights of Christian parents
in the training of the souls they have begotten, of Christ in the
nurture of the souls he died to redeem. To-day it is this Rom-
ish Church which stands forth precisely in the position of, the
Luthers, Calvins, Knoxes, and Mathers as to the main, central
point, which is> that the education of the young should be
Christian, and should be committed to Christian hands. And
what are our representative Protestants saying? Instead of
admitting this truth of the ages, and confessing the fatal error
into which their haste and Jacobinism have betrayed them,
they» are only shouting that Rome objects to the American
State school (because Rome hates republicanism, and wishes to
overthrow it. The best they can do is to place themselvies Jn
this absurd and dishonest position : To boast in one breath of
their loyalty to the principles of the Reformers concerning edu-
cation, and in the next breath to vilify the Roman Church for
reasserting the very principles of these same Reformers. What
can they expect save a misera'ble defeat upon this false posi-
tion, if, indeed, common justice and cDmmon sense are to con-
tinue traits of the American mind; unless, indeed, America is
to make up her mind to 'be atheistic or pagan instead of Chris-
tian? These misguided Protestants may be assured that there
are hundreds of thousands of serious, devout parents who will
be much more likely to houDr Rome as the faithful champion of

THE ATTKAOTTOITS OF POPEBT. 549

Christ's rights over their children than to condemn her as the
designing enemy of free government. In this unnatural con-
test Protestantism can only lose, while Rome gains; and she
will gain the approval not only of the superstitious, but of the
most thoughtful and devout minds.

(6.) It is with this most valuable class of minds that Rome
is now gaining another far-reaching advantage. This is by her
doctrine concerning marriage and the relations of the sexes. On
these points she continues to hold and teach the highest views.
It is very true that Boime errs in making marriage a sacrament
of the church; but she makes it, as Scripture does, a divinely ap-
pointed and religious institution, while Protestant laws and de-
bauched Protestant thought tend all over America to degrade it
to a mere civil contract. The Roman doctrine and canon law re-
cognize no divorce except by the pope himself. They teach that
marriage is inviolable. The divorce laws in our Pnotestanti
States provide so many ways for rending the marriage tie that
its vows have become almost A. farce. We are told that many
Protestant women in America scornfully refuse to take the vow
of oibedience to their husbands, appointed by God in his word ;
and Protestant parsons are so cowardly that they dare not men-
tion it in the marriage ceremony. But Rome still exacts this
conjugal oibedience of her daughters. Romish pastors also
stand almost alone in teaching their people the enormous crim-
inality of those nameless sins against posterity at which fash-
ionable Protestantism connives. Moral and thoughtful men
who know history know how fundamental the sanctity of mar-
riage and the family is to society and the church, how surely
their corruption must destroy both and 'barbarize mankind, look
on aghast at this spreading taint in American life. Many an
educated patriot is beginning to say that Romanism is the only
firm and consistent opponent.

'Protestants may exclaim that Rome has ever been a cor-
rupting religion ; that even the confessional has been made the
instrument of profligacy. No doubt these things have often
been true; yet another thing is visibly true in these United
States: that while degrading views of the marriage relation and
of the honor of parentage are eating out the life of so many
nominal Protestant families, and bringing them to total ex-
tinction, the families of Romanists are better protected from

550 THE ATTBA0TION8 OF POPERY.

this blight. Their houses are peopled with children, while the
homes of rich Protestants are too elegant and luxurious for
such nuisances. By the very force of the Malthusian law of
population Romanism is growing, while Protestantism stands
still.

I have thus described aix distinct lines of influence which
our unfaithfulness to our principles has betrayed into the
hands of the Romanist. They are us>ing them all with constant
effect, and we, at least, cannot blame them.

II. I now proceed to explain certain evil principles of hu-
man nature which are concurring powerfully in this country to
give currency to popery. These may be called its illicit advan-
tages. I mention:

(1.) The constant tendency of American demagogues to
pay court to popery and to purchase votes for theanselves from
it, at the cost of the people's safety, rights and money. Nearly
two generations ago (the men of this day seem to have forgot-
ten the infamy) William H. Seward, of New York, began this
dangerous and dishonest game. He wished to <be Governor of
New York. He came to an' understanding with Arehtiishop
Hughes, then the head of the popish hierarchy in that State, to
give him the Irish vote in return for certain sectarian advan-
tages in the disbursement of the State revenues. Neither Rome
nor the demagogues have since forgotten their lesson, nor will
they ever forget it. It would 'be as unreasonaWe to expect it
as to expect that hawks will forget the poultry yard. It is the
nature of the demagogue to trade off anything for votes; they
are the breath in the nostrils of his ambition. The popish hier-
archy differs essentially from the ministry of any other reli-
gion, in having votes to trade. The traditional claim of Rome
is that she has the right to control both spheres, the ecclesiasti-
cal and the political, the politica!l for the sake of the ecclesias-
tical. The votes of her masses are more or less manageable, as
the votes of Protestants are not, because Rome's is a system of
authority as opposed to free thought. Rome instructs the con-
science of every one of her members that it is his religioup
duty to subordinate all other duties and interests to hers. And
this is a spiritual duty enforceable by the most awful spiritual
sanctions. How can a thinking man afford to disobey the hier-
archy which holds his eternal destiny in its secret fist; so that

THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 551

even if they gave him in form the essential sacraments, such
as the masis, absolution, and extreme unction, they are able
clandestinely to make them worthless to him, by withholdiag
the sacramental intention. Hence it is that the majority of
American papists can be voted in "blocks"; and it is virtually
the hierarchy which votes them. The goods are ready bound up
in parcels for trafiBc with demagogues. We are well aware that
numerous papists will indignantly deny this; declaring that
there is a Bomanist vote in this country which is just as inde-
pendent of their priesthood and as free as any other. Of course
there is. The hierarchy is a very experienced and dextrous
driver. It does not whip in the restive colt*, 'but humors them
awhile until she gets them well harnessed and broken. But the
team as a wh9le must yet travel her road, because they have to
believe it infallible. We assure these independent Romanist
voters that they are not "good Catholics"; they must unlearn
this heresy of independent thought before they are meet for
the Romanist paradise. Men of secular ambition have always
sought to use the hierarchy to influence others for their p9liti-
cal advantage; the example is as old as history. Just as soon
as prelacy was developed in the patristic church, Roman em-
perors began to purchase its influence to sustain their thrones.
Throughout the Middle Ages, German kaisers and French,
Spanish, and English kings habitually traded with Rome, pay-
ing her dignities and endowments for her ghastly support to
their ambitions. Even in this century we have seen the two
Napoleons playing the same game — purchasing for their im-
perialism the support of a priesthood in wh9se religion they
did not believe. If any suppose that because America is nom-
inally democratic the isame thing will not happen here, they are
thoroughly silly. S9me Yankee ingenuity will be invoked to
modify the forms of the traflBc, so as to suit American names ;
that is all.

Intelligent studentis of church history know that one main
agency f9r converting primitive Christianity first into prelacy
and then into popery was unlimited church endowments. As
soon as Constantine established Christianity as the religion of
the State, ecclesiastical persoas and bodies began to assume the
virtual (and before long the formal) rights of corporations. They
could receive bequests and gifts of property, and hold them by

552 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY.

a tenure as flpm as that of the fee-simple. These spiritual cor-
porations were deathless. Thuis the property they acquired
was all held 'by the tenure of mortmain. When a corporation
is thus empowered to absorb continually, and never to disgorge,
there is no limit to its pDssible wealth. The laws of the empire
in the Middle Ages Imposed no limitations u|k)n bequests ; thus,
most naturally, monasteries, cathedrals, chapters, and arch-
bishoprics became inordinately rich. At the Reformation they
had grasped one-third of the property of Europe. But Scrip-
ture saith, "Where the carcass is, thither the eagles are gath-
ered together." Wealth is pDwer, and ambitious men crave
it. Thus this endowed hierarchy came to be filled by the men
of the greediest ambition in Europe, instead of by humble, self-
denying pastors; and thus it was that this tremendous money
power, arming itself first with a spiritual despotism of the
popish theology over consciences, and then allying itself with
pDlitical power, wielded the whole to enforce the absolute dom-
ination of that religion which gave them their wealth. Niq
wonder human liberty, free thought, and the Bible were to-
gether trampled out of Europe. When the Reformation came,
the men who could think saw that this tenure in mortmain had
been the fatal thing. Knox, the wisest of them, saw clearly
that if a religious ref Drmation was to succeed in Scotland the
ecclesiastical corporations must be destroyed. They were de-
stroyed, their whole property alienated to the secular nobles or
to the State (the remnant which Knox secured for religious edu-
catioif) ; and therefore it was that Scotland remained Presbyter-
ian. When our American commonwealths were founded, states-
men and divines understood this great principle of jurispru-
dence, that no corporate tenure in mortmain, either spiritual or
secular, is compatilDle with the liberty of the people and the
continuance of coaatitutional government.

But it would appear that our legislatDrs now know nothing
about that great principle, or care nothing about it. Church in-
stitutions, Protestant and Romanist, are virtually perpetual cor-
porations. Whatever the pious choose to give them is held in
mortmain, and they grow CDntinually richer and richer; they do
not even pay taxes, and there seems no limit upon their acquisi-
tions. And last comeis the Supreme Court of the United States,
and under the pretext of construing the law, legislates a new

THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 553

law. In the famous Walnut-street Church case, as though they
desired to ensure both the corruption of religion and the de-
struction of free government by a second gigantic incubus of
endowed ecclesiasticism. The new law is virtually this: That
in case any free citizen deems that the gifts of himself or hie
ancestors are usurped for some use alien to the designed trust,
H shall be the usurper who shall decide the issue. This is, of
course, essentially popish, yet a great Protestant denomination
has been seen hastening to enroll it in its digest of spiritual
laws.* The working of this tendency Of overgrown ecclesiasti-
cal wealth will certainly be two-fold: First, to Romanize par-
tially or wholly the Protestant churches thus enriched; and,
secondly, to incline, enable, and equip the religion thus Roman-
ized for its alliance with political ambition and for the subju-
gation of the people and the government. When church bodies
began, under Constantine, to acquire endowments, these bodies
were Episcopal, at most, or even still Presbyterian. . The in-
crease of endowmient helped to make them popish. Then pop-
ery and feudalisni stamped out the Bible and enslaved Europe.
If time permitted, I could trace out the lines of causation into
perfect clearness. Will men ever learn that like causes must
produce like effects?

(2.) The democratic theory of human society may be the
most rational and equita'ble; tout human nature is not equita-
ble; it is fallen and perverted. Lust of applause, pride, vain-
glory, and love of power are as natural to it as hunger to the
body. Next to Adam, the most representative man upon earth
was Diotrephes, "who loves to have the pre-eminence." Every
man is an aristocrat in his heart. Now, prelacy and popery are
aristocratic religions. Consequently, as long as human nature
is natural, they will present more or less of attraction to human
minds. Quite a number of Methodist, Presbyterian, or Inde-
pendent ministers have gone over to prelacy or popery, and
thus become bishops. Was there ever one of them, however
conscientious his new faith, and however devout his temper,
who did not find some elation and pleasure in his spiritual dig-
nity? Is there a democrat in democratic America who would
not be flattered in his heart by being addressed as "my lord?"
IMstinction and power are gratifying to all men. Prelacy and

See» Dabney'a Discussions, Vol. II., p. 861.

664 THK ATTBAOTIOirS OP POPERT.

popery offer this sweet morsel to aspirants by promis'ing to
make some of them lords of their brethren. This is enough to
entice all of them, as the crown entices all the racers on the
race-course. It is true that while many run, one obtaineth the
crown; but all may flatter themselves with the hope of win-
ning. Especially does the pretension of sacramental grace offer
the most isplendid bait to human ambition which can be con-
ceived of on this earth. To be the vicar of the Almighty in dis-
pensing eternal life and heavenly crowns at will is a more mag-
nificent iMJwer than the prerogative of any emperor on earth.
Let a man once be persuaded that he really grasps this power
by getting a pTace in the . apostolic succession, and the more
sincere he is, the more splendid the prerogative will appear to
him; for the more clearly his faith appreciates the thing that
he proposes to do in the sacraments, the more illustrious that
thing must appear. The greatest boon ever inherited by an em-
peror was finite. The boon of redemption is infinite; to be able
to dispense it at will to one sinner is a much grander thing than
to conquer the world and establish a universal secular empire.
The humblest "hedge-priest" would be a far grander man than
that emperor if he could really work the miracle and confer the
grace of redemption which Rome says he does every time he
consecrates a mass. How shall we estimate, then, the great-
ness of that pope or prelate \Vho can manufacture such miracle
workers at will? The greatest being on earth should hardly
think himself worthy to loose his sandals from his feet. The
Turkish embassador to Paris was certainly right when, upon
accompanying the King of France to high mass in Notre Dame,
and seeing the king, courtiers and multitude all prostrate them-
selves when the priest elevated the Host, he wondered that the
king should allow anybody but himself to perform that mag-
nificent function. He is reported to have said : "Sire, if I were
king, and believed in your religion, nobody should do that in
France except me. It is a vastly greater thing than anything
else that you do in your royal functions." As long as man is
man, therefore, popery will iwssess this unhallowed advantage
of enticing, and even entrancing, the ambition of the keenest
aspirants. The stronger their faith in their doctrine, the more
will they sanctify to themselves this dreadful ambition. In
this respect, as in so many others, the tendency of the whole

THE ATTRACTION'S OF POPKRY. 555

current of human nature la to make papists. It is converting
grace only which can check that current and turn men sincerely
'back towards Protestantism. I am well aware that the func-
tions of the Protestant minister may be so wrested as to present
an appeal to unhallowed ambition. But popery professes to
confer upon her clergy every didactic and presbyterial function
which Protestantism has to bestow; while the former offers, in
addition, this splendid bait of prelatic power and sacramental
miracle-working.

(3.) All the churches which call themselves Protestant,
even the strictest, now betray the silent influence of those
Romanizing tendencies which have been and are hereafter to be
explained. There is an almost universal letting down of the
old standard of doctrine and worship. A comparison of preva-
lent usages of to-day and of seventy years ago in the Methodist,
Baptist, Congregational and Presbyterian Churches (except
those of the Secession) would startle any thinking mind. Ev-
ery one of them now admits usages which were then univer-
sally rejected by them, such as architectural pomps, pictured
windows, floral decorations, instrumental and operatic music.
One may say, that these are matters of indifference which can-
not be proved anti-scriptural; but every sensible man knows
that they proceed from one impulse, the craving for a more
spectacular and ritualistic worship. This is precisely the im-
pulse which brought about prelacy and popery in the patristic
ages. The strictest Protestant communions are now moving
upon the same inclined plane. The descent is gentle, at first,
but as it proceeds it grows steeper; and at the bottom is popery.
The prelatic churches of America now notoriously occupy the
middle and advanced parts of this course. Forty years ago,
when things were not near so bad with them as now, the head
of the American popish hierarchy pointed an eminent Presby-
terian' divine to a dainty Puseyite clergyman tripping by, and
said, with a sardonic smile: "Doctor, those are the cattle who
do our plowing for us gratis. They leave us little to do. My
only objection to their work is, that they make their perverts
rather too popish to suit my taste as a Romanist." This Right
Reverend was, of counse, an Irishman. Episcopalians who
teach baptismal regeneration, the real presence, the apostolic
succession and such like dogmas, must inevitably propel their

656 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERT.

pupils towards popery. If their favorite doctrines liave any
foundation in logic or Scripture, that foundation sustains
popery as fully as prelacy. When one fixes the premises in the
minds of his pupils, he should expect to see them sooner or
later proceed to the logical consequence; as all rivers run to
the ocean, so the ultimate destiny of all high churchism is
Rome. These covert educators for popery are more efficient
for evil than the overt ones. I fear those who are on the road
to the Eternal Oity more than those who have fixed their atwde
there. This head of my argument is, then, that Romanism is
sure to win in America, because most of those who profess to
be Protestants are really helping her by preparing her way.

(4.) In sundry respects I perceive a sort of hallucination
prevailing in people's minds concerning old historical errors
and abuses, which I see to have been the regular results of hu-
man nature. Men will not understand history; they flatter
themselves that, because the modes of civilization are much
changed and advanced, therefore the essential laws of man's
nature are going to cease acting; which is just as unreasonable
as to expect that sinful human beings must entirely cease to be
untruthful, sensual, dishonest, and selfish, because they have
gotten to wear fine clothes. Of certain evils and abuses of an-
cient history men persuade themselves that they are no longer
possible among us, because we have tecome civilized and nom-
inally Christian. One of these evils is Idolatry with its two
•branches, polytheism and image- worship. Oh! they say, man-
liind-has outgrown all that; other evils may invade our Chris-
tian civilization, but that is too gross to come back again. They
are blind at once to the teachings of historical facts and to com-
mon sense. They know that at one time idolatry nearly filled
the ancient world. Well, what was the previous religious state
of mankind upon which it supervened? Virtually a Christian
state, that is to say, a worship of the one true God, under the
light of revelation, with our same gospel taught by promises
and sacrifices. And it is very stupid to suppose that the social
state upon which the early idolatry supervened was savage or
barbaric. We rather conclude that the people who built Noah's
ark, the tower of Babel, and the pyramid of Cheops, and who
enjoyed the light of God's recent revelations to Adam, to Enoch,
to Noah, were civilized. Men make a strange confusion here:

THE ATTEAOTIONS OF POPBET. 557

They fancy that idolatry could be prevalent because mankind
were not civilized. The historical fact is just the opposite:
Mankind became uncivilized because idolatry first prevailed. In
truth, the principles tending to idDlatry are deeply laid in man's
fallen nature. lake a compressed spring, they are ever ready to
act again, and will eurely begin to act, whenever the opposing
power of vital godliness is withdrawn. First, the sensuous has
become too prominent in man; reason, conscience, and faith, too
feeble. Every sinful man's experience witnesses this all day
long, every day of his life. Why else is it that the objects of
sense-perception, which are comparatively trivial, dominate his
attention, his sensibilities, and his desires so much more than
the objects of faith, which he himself knows to be so much more
important? Did not this sensuous tendency seek to invade
man's religious ideas and feelings, it would toe strange indeed.
Hence, man untaught and unchecked iby the heavenly light al-
ways shows a craving for sensuous objects of worship. He is
not likely^ in our day, to satisfy this craving by setting up a
brazen image of Dagon, the fish god; or of Zeus, or the Boman
Jupiter; or of the Aztecs' Itzlahuitl. But still he craves a visi-
ible, material object of worship. Rome meets him at a com-
fortable half-way statiDn with her relics, crucifixes, and images
of the saints. She adroitly smoothes the downhill road for him
by connecting all these with the worship of the true God. Again,
man's conscious weakness impels him almost irresistibly in his
serious hours to seek some being of supernatural attributes to
lean upon. His heart cries out, "Lead me to the Rock that fs
higher than I." But when pure monotheism proposes to him
the supreme, eternal God — infinite not only in his power to help,
but in his omniscience, justice, and holiness — the sinful heart
recoils. This object is too high, too holy, too dreadful for it.
Sinful man craves a God, but, like his first father, shuns the
infinite God; hence the powerful tendency to invent interme-
diate gods, whom he may persuade himself to be sufficiently
gracious and powerful to be trusted, and yet not so infinite, im-
mutable, and holy as inevitably to condemn sin. Here is the
impulse which prompted all pagan nations to invent polythe-
ism. This they did by filling the space between man and the
supreme being with intermediate gods. Such, among the Greeks,
were Bacchus, Hercules, Castor and Pollux, Theseus, Aescula-
pin«. etc. It Is a great mistake to suppose that thoughtful

558 THB ATTEA0TION8 OF POPERT.

pagans did, not recognize the unity and eternity of a supreme
God, "Father of gods and of men." But sometimes they rep-
resent him as so exalted and sublimated as to be at once above
the reach of human prayers and above all concernment in hu-
man affairs. Others thought of him as too awful to be directly
approached, accessible only through the mecdation of his own
next progeny, the secondary gods. Here we have precisely the
impulse for which Borne provides in her saint-worship. Mary
is the highest of the intermediate gods, next to the trinity, the
intercessor for Christ's intercession. The apostles and saints
are the secondary gods of this Christian pantheon. How
strangely has God's predestination led Bome in the develop-
ment of her history to the unwitting admission of this indict-
ment! Pagan Bome had her marble temple, the gift of Agrip-
pa to the Commonwealth, the Pantheon, or sanctuary of all the
gods. This very building stands now, rededicated by the popes
as the temple of 'Christ and all the saints. So fateful has been
the force of this analogy between the old polytheism and the
new.

The attempt is made, indeed, to hide the likeness by the so-
phistical distinction between latria and dulia; but its wortih-
lesisness appears from this, that even dulia cannot be offered
to redeemed creatures without ascribing to them, by an un-
avoidable implication, the attributes peculiar to Gpd. In one
word, fallen men of all ages have betrayed a powerful tendency
to image-worship and polytheism. Bome provides for that ten-
dency in a way the most adroit possible, for an age nominally
Christian but practically unbelieving. To that tendency the
religion of the Bible sternly refuses to concede anything, re-
quiring not its gratification, but its extirpation. This cunning
policy of Bome had sweeping success in the early church. The
same principle won almost universal success in the ancient
world. It will succeed again here. Many will exclaim that this
prognostic is wholly erroneous; that the great, 'bad tendency of
our age and country is to agnosticisim as against all religions.
I am not mistaken. This drift will be as temporary as it is
partial. M. Guizot says in his Meditations: "One never need
go far back in- history to find atheism advancing half way to
meet superstition." A wiser analyst of human nature says:
"Even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge,

THE ATTE ACTIONS Of POPBBT. 569

God gave them over to a reprobate mind." "Professing them-
selves to be wise, they became fools, and changed the glory of
the incorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible
man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things."
Thk is the exact pathology of superstition. When the culture
of the Augustan age taught the Bomans to despise the religious
faith of their fathers, there was an interval of agnosticism. But
next, the most refined of the agnostics were seen studying the
mysteries of Isis and practicing the foulest rites of the pagan-
ism of the conquered provinces. Atheism is too freezing a
blank for human souls to inhabit permanently. It outrages too
many of the heart's affections and of the reason's first princi-
ples. A people who have cast away th€ir G^d, when they dis-
cover this, turn to false gods. For all such wandering spirits
Eome stands with open doors; there, finally, they will see their
most convenient refuge of superstition in a catalogue of Chris-
tian isaints transformed into a polytheism. Thus the cravings
of superstition are satisfied, while the crime is veiled from the
conscience by this pretence of scriptural origin.

(5.) I proceed to unfold an attraction of Romanism far
more seductive. This is its proposal to satisfy man's guilty
heart by a ritual instead of a spiritual salvation. As all know
who understand the popish theology, the proposed vehicle of
this redemption by forms is the sacraments. Romanists are
taught that the New Testament sacraments differ from those of
the Old Testament in this: that they not only symbolize and
seal, but effectuate grace tx opere operato in the souls of the
recipients. Rome teaches her children that her sacraments are
actual charismatic power of direct supernatural eflSciency
wrought upon recipients by virtue of a portion of the Holy
Spirit's omnipotence conferred upon the priest in ordination
from the apostolic succession. The Bible teaches that in the
case of all adults a gracious state must pre-exist in order for
any beneficial participation in the sacrament, and that the only
influence of the sacramients is to cherish and advance that pre-
existing spiritual life by their didactic effect, as energized by
God's Spirit, through prayer, faith, watchfulness, and obedience,
in precisely the same generic mode in which the Holy Spirit en-
ergizes the written and preached word. Hence, if watchfulness,
prayer, obedience, and a life of faith are neglected, our sacra-

560 THE AOTBAOtlONS OP I*OPBE'?.

ments become no sacraments. If thou l>e a 'breaker of the law,
thy "circumciision is made uncircumcision." But Rome teaches
that her sacraments, duly administered by a priest having ap3s-
tolic succession, implant spiritual lift in souls hitherto dead- in'
sin, and that they maintain and foster this life by a direct pow-
er not dependent on the recipient's diligent exercise of gospel
principles. Provided the recipient be not in mortal siin unab-
solved, the sacrament does its spiritual work upon the sinful
soul,- whether it receives it in the exercise 3f saving grace or
not. (See the article, "Prelacy a Blunder,"- in ColltcUd Discui-
sions, Vol. II., p. 218.)

Now let no Protestant mind exclaim : "Surely this is too
gross to be popular; surely people will have too much sense to
think that they can get to heaven by this species cif consecrated
jugglery!" History shows that this scheme of redemption is al-
most universally acceptable and warmly popular with sinful
mankind. Apprehend aright the ideas of paganism, ancient and
modern: we perceive that this popish conception of sacraments
is virtually the same with the pagan's conception of their heath-
en rites. They claim to 'be just this species of saving ritual,
working their benefit upon souls precisely by this opus opera-
turn agency. What a commentary have we here upon this ten-
dency of human nature to a ritual salvation. The evangelists
and apostles reintroduced to the world the pure conception of
a spiritual salvation wrDught by the energy of di-vdne truth, and
not of church rites; received by an intelligent faith in the saved
man's soul, and not by manual ceremonial; and made effectual
by the enlightening operation -of the Holy Ghost upon heart and
mind in rationed accordance with truth, not by a priestly incan-
tation -working a physical miracle. The gospels and epistles
defined and separated the two conceptions as plainly as words
could do it. But no ,sooner were the apostles gone than the
pagan conception of salvation by ritual, instead of by rational
faith, began to creep back into the patristic church. In a few
hundred years the wrong conception had triumphed completely
over the correct one in nearly the whole of Christendom, and
thenceforward sacramental grace has reigned supreme over the
whole Roman and Greek communions, in spite of modem let-
ters and culture. How startling this commentary upon that
tendency of human nature! Surely there are deep-iseated prin-

THE ATTRAOTIONS OF POPERT. 561

ciples in man to account for it.

These are not far to seek. First, men are sensuous beings,
and hence they naturally crave something concrete, material,
and spectacular in their religion. Dominated as they are by a
perpetual current of sensations, and having their animality ex-
aggerated by their sinful nature, they are sluggish to think spir-
itual truths, to look by faith upon invisible objects; they crave
to walk by sight rather than by faith. The material things in
mammon, the sensual pleasures which they see with their eyes
and handle with their fingers, although they perfectly know
they perish with the using, obscure their view of all the infinite,
eternal realities, notwithstanding their professed belief of them.
Need we wonder that with such creatures the visible and man-
ual ritual should prevail over the spiritual didactic? Does one
exclaim, "But this is so unreasonable — this notion that a ritual
ceremonial can change the state and destiny of a rational and
moral spirit!" I reply, "Yes, but not one whit more irrational
than the preference which the whole natural world gives to the
things which are seen and temporal, as it perfectly knows, over
the things which are unseen and eternal; an insanity of which
the educated and refined are found just as capable as the ig-
norant and brutish." But the other principle of human nature
is still more keen and pronounced in its preference for a ritual
salvation. This is its deep-seated, omnipotent preference for
self-will and sin over spiritual holiness of life. The natural
man has, indeed, his natural conscience and remorse, his fear-
ful looking for of judgment, his natural fear of misery, whieh
is but modified selfishness. These make everlasting punishment
very terrible to his apprehension.

But enmity to Qod, to his spiritual service, to the suprem-
acy of his holy will, is as native to him as his selfish fear is.
Next to perdition, there is no conception in the universe so re-
pulsive to the sinful heart of man as that of genuine repentance
and ita fruits. The true gospel comes to him and says: Here
is, indeed, a blessed, glorious redemption, as free as air, as se-
cure as the throne of God, but instrumentally it is conditional
on the faith of the heart; which faith works by love, purifies the
heart, and can only exist as it co-exists with genuine repent-
ance, which repentance turns honestly, unreservedly, here and
now, without shuffling or procrastination, from ein unto God,

662 THE AMBAOTIOITS OF tOPEBY.

with full purpose of and endeavor after new obedience; which
is, in fact, a complete surrender of the sinful will to God's holy
will, and a hearty enlistment in an arduous work of watchful-
ness, self-denial, and self-discipline, for the sake of inward holi-
nese, to be kept up as long as life lasts. Soul, embrace this task,
and this splendid salvation shall be yours; and the gracious
Saviour, who purchases it for you, /shall sustain, comfort, and
enaible you in this arduous enlistment, so that even in the midst
of the warfare you shall find rest, and at the end heaven; but
without this faith and this repentance no sacraments or rights
will do a particle of good towards your salvation. Now, this
carnal soul has no faith; it is utterly mistrustful and skeptical
as to the possibility of this peace of the heart in the spiritual
warfare, this sustaining power of the invisible hand, of which
it has had no experience. This complete subjugation of self-
will to God, this life of self-denial and vital godliness, appears
to this soul utterly repulsive, yea, terrible. This guilty isoul
dreads hell; it atohors such a life only less than hell. When'
told by Protestantism that it must thus "turn or die," this car-
nal soul finds itself in an abhorrent dilemma; either term of the
alternative is abominable to it. But now comes the theory of
sacramental grace and says to it with oily tongue: "Oh! Prot-
estantism exaggerates the dilemma! Your case is not near so
bad! The sacraments of the church transfer you from the state
of condemnation to that of reconciliation by their own direct
but mysterious efficiency; they work real grace, though you do
not bring to them this deep, thorough-going self-sacrifice and
self-consecration. No matter how much you sin, or how often,
repeated masses will make expiation for the guilt of all those
sins ex epere operate. Thus, with her other sacraments of pen-
ance and extreme unction, Holy Mother Church will repair all
your short-comings and put you back into a salvable state, no
matter how sinfully you live." Need we wonder that this false
doctrine is as sweet to that guilty soul as a reprieve to the felon
at the foot of the gallows? He can draw his breath again; he
can say to himself: "Ah, then the abhorred dilemma does not
urge me here and now; I can postpone this hated reformation;
I can still tamper with cherished sins without embracing per-
dition." This is a pleasant doctrine; it siuits so perfectly the
sinful, selfish isoul which does not wish to part with its sins,
and also does not wish to lie down .in everlasting burnings.

THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPEttt. 663

This deep-seated love of sin' and self has also another re-
sult: The soul is conscious that, if it must do many things
which it does not like in order to avoid perdition, it is much
pleasanter to do a numOber of ceremonial things than to do any
portion of spiritual heart-work. After I stood my graduate
examination in philosophy at the University of Virginia, my
professor, the venerable George Tucker, showed me a cheating
apparatus which had 'been prepared by a member of the class.
He had unluckily dropped it upon the sidewalk, and it had
found its way to the professor's hands. It was a narrow blank-
book, made to be hidden in the ooat-sleeve. It contained, in
exceedingly small penmanship, the whole course, in the form
of questions from the professor's recitations with their answers
copied from the text-book. It was really a work of much labor.
I said, "The strange thing to me is, that this sorry fellow has ex-
pended upon this fraud much more hard labor than would have
enabled him to prepare himself for passing honestly and hon-
orably." Mr. Tucker replied, "Ah, my dear sir, you forget that
a dunce finds it easier to do any amount of mere manual drud-
gery than the least bit of true thinldng." Here we have an ex-
act illustration. It is less irksome to the carnal mind to do
twelve dozen pater-nosters 'By the beads than to do a few mo-
ments of real heart-work. Thoughtless people sometimes say
that the rule of Romish piety is more exacting than that of the
Protestant. This is the explanation, that Rome is more exact-
ing as to form and ritual ; Biible religion is more exacting as to
spiritual piety and vital godliness. To the carnal mind the lat-
ter are almost insufferably irksome and laborious; the form and
ritual, easy and tolerable. And when remorse, fear, and self-
righteousness are gratified by the assurance that these obser-
vances really promote the soul's salvation, the task is made
light. Here Rome will always present an element of popularity
as long as mankind are sensuous and carnal.

(6.) To a shallow view, it might appear that the popish doc-
trine of purgatory should be quite a repulsive element of un-
popularity with sinners; that doctrine is, that notwithstanding
all the benefit of the church's sacraments and the believer's ef-
forts, no Christian soul goes direct to heaven when the body
dies, except those of the martyrs, and a few eminent saints, who
are, as it were, miracles of sanctification in this life. All the

664 THB AtTEAOMOlfB OF POPKBT.

clergy, and even the pDpes, must go through purgatory in spite
of the apostolic succession and the infallibility. There the re-
mains of carnality in all must be burned away, and the deficien-
cies of their penitential Tvork in this life made good, by endur-
ing penal fires and torments for a shorter or longer <time. Then
the Christian souls, finally purged from depravity and the rta-
urn paenae, enter into their final rest with Christ. But the
alms, prayers, and masses of survivors avail much to help these
Christian souls in purgatory and shorten their sufferings. It
might be supposed that the Protestant doctrine should be much
more attractive and popular, viz. : that there is no purgatory or
intermediate state for the spirits of dead men, but that the
"souls of believers, being at their death made perfect in holi-
ness, do immediately enter into glory." This ought to be the
more attractive doctrine, and to Bitole believers it is such, but
there is a feature about it which makes it intensely unpopular
and repellent to carnal men, and gives a powerful advantage
with them to the popish scheme. That feature is, the sharpness
and strictness of the alternative which the BiWe doctrine press-
es upon sinners : "turn or die."

The Bible offers the most blessed and glorious redemption
conceivable by man, gracious and free, and bestowing a con-
summate blessedness the moment the body dies. But it is on
these terms that the gospel must be embraced by a penitent
faith, working an honest and thorough revolution in the life. If
the sinner refuses this until this life ends, he seals his fate; and
that fate is final, unchangeable, and dreadful. Now, it is no
consolation to the carnal heart that the gospel assures him he
need not run any risk of that horrible fate; that he has only
to turn and live; that very turning is the thing which he ab-
hors, if it is to be done in spirit and in truth. He intensely de-
sires to retain his sin and self-will. He craves earnestly to put
oflE the evil day of this sacrifice without incurring the irrepara-
ble penalty. Now, Rome comes to him and tells him that this
Protestant doctrine is unnnecessarily harsh; that a sinner may
continue in the indulgence of his sine until this life ends, and
yet not seal himself up thereby to a hopeless hell; that if he
is in communion with the Holy Mother Church through her
sacraments, he may indulge himself in this darling procrastina-
tion without ruining himself forever. Thus the hateful neces-

THB ATTRACTIONS OF POPBBT. 565

sity of present repentance is postponed awhile; sweet, precious
privilege to the sinner! True, he must expect to pay. due pen-
ance for that self-indulgence in purgatory, but he need not per-
ish for it. The Mother Church advises him not t9 make so bad
a 'bargain and pay so dear for his whistle. But she assures him
that, if he does, it need not ruin him, for she will pull him
through after a little by her merits and sacraments. How con-
soling this is to the heart at once in love with sin and remorse-
ful for its guilt! The seductiveness of this the9ry of redemp-
tion to the natural heart is proved by this grand fact, that in
principle and in its essence this scheme of purgatorial cleans-
ing has had a prominent place in every religion in the world
that is of human iifvention. The Bible, the one divine religion,
is peculiar in rejecting the whole concept. Those hoary reli-
gi9ns, Brahmanism and Buddhism, give their followers the vir-
tual advantage of this conception in the transmigration of their
souls. The guilt of the sinner's human life may 'be expiated by
the sorrows of the soul's existence in a series of animal or rep-
tile bodies, and then through another human existence, the
penitent and purified soul may at last reach heaven. Classic
paganism promised the same escape f9r sinners, as all familiar
with Virgil know. His hero, Aeneas, when visiting the under
world, saw many sinners there preparing for their release into
the Elysian fields. Ergo exercentur poenis, et vettrum malorum
supplicia expendunt. Mohammed extends the same hope to all
hie sinful followers. For those who entirely reject Islam there
is nothing but hell; but f9r all who profess "There is no (jlod
but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet," there is a purgatory
after -death, and its pains are shortened by his intercession. The
Boman and Greek Churches flatter the sinful world with the
same human invention. So strong is this craving of carnal men
to postpone the issue of turning to God or perishing. We now
see its effect upon the most cultured minds of this advanced
nineteenth century in the New England doctrine of a "second
probation." Rome has understood human nature skilfully, and
has adapted her bait for it with cDnsummate cunning. Her
scheme is much more acute than that of the absolute universal-
ist of the school of Hosea Ballou, for this outrages man's moral
intuitions too grossly by rejecting all dasHnetion between
guilt and righteousness. This bait for sin-loving men is too
bald.

566 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERT.

It must tie added that the doctrine of a purgatory and of
an application Df redemption after death is intensely attractive
■to other principles of the human heart, much more excusable;
to some affections, indeed, which are amiable. I allude to the
solicitude and the affection of believers for the souls of those
whom they loved in this life, "whD died and made no sign." The
Bible doctrine is, indeed, a solemn, an awful one to Christians
'bereaved by the impenitent deaths of children and relatives.
It is our duty to foresee this solemn result, and to provide
against it 'by doing everything which intercessory prayer, holy
example and loving instruction and entreaty can do to prevent
such a catastrophe in the case of all those near to our hearts.
But human self-indulgence is prone to be slack in employi'ng
this safeguard against this sorrow. Let us picture to ourselves
such a bereaved Christian, sincere, yet partially self-condemned,
and doubtful or fearful or hDpeless concerning the thorough
conversion of a child who has been cut down by death. Of all
the elements of bereavement none is so bitter, so immedicable,
as the fear that he whom he loved must suffer the wrath of
God forever, and that now he is beyDnd reach of his prayers
and help. To such a one comes the Romish priest with this
species of discourse. See now how harsh and cruel is this here-
tical Protestant dogma! Instead of offering consolation to
your Christian sorrow it embitters it as with a drop of hell Are.
But Holy Mother Church is a mild and loving comforter; she
assures you that your loved one is not necessarily lost; he may
have to endure keen penances in purgatory for a time, but there
is a glorious hope to sustain him and you under tihem. Every
minute of pain is bringing the final heaven nearer, and the "most
blessed part of our teaching is that your love can still follow
him and help him and totes, as it was wont to do under those
earthly chastisements of his si'ns. It is your privilege still to
pray for him, and your prayers avail to lighten his sufferings
and to shorten them. Your love can still find that generous
solace which was always so sweet to you amidst your former
sorrows for his sins and his earthly sufferings — the solace of
helping him and sharing his pains. Your alms also may avail
for him; masses can be multiplied by your means, which will
make merit to atone for his penitential guilt and hasten his
blessed release. Who can doubt that a loving heart will be

THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 567

powerfully seduced by this ppomlse, provided it can persuade
itself of its certainty, or even of its probable truth? Here is
the stronghold of Romanism on sincere, amiable, and affection-
ate souls. Of course, the real question is, whether any pastor or
priest is authorized by God to hold out these hopes to the be-
reaved. If they are unwarrantable, then this presentation is an
artifice of unspeakable cruelty and profanity. Under the pre-
tence of softening the pain of bereavement to God's children, it
is adding to wicked deception tihe most mischievous influences
upon the living by contradicting those solemn incentives to im-
mediate repentance which God has set up in Ms word, and by
tempting deluded souls with a false hope to neglect their real
opportunity. If the hope is not grounded in the word of God,
then its cruelty is equal to its deceitfulness. But the suffering
heart is often weak, and it is easier to yield bo the temptation
of accepting a deceitful consolation than to brace itself up to
the plain but «tern duty oi ascertaining G^d's truth.

I have thus set in array the influences which Rome is now
wielding throughout our country for the seduction of human
souls. Some of these weapons Protestants put into her hands by
their own unfaithfulness and folly. God has a right to blame
Rome for using this species of weapon in favor of the wrong
cause, but these Protesitants have not.

There is another class of weapons which Rome finds in the
iblindness and sinfulness of human nature. Her guilt may be
justly summed up in this statement: That these are precisely
the errors and crimes of humanity which the church of Christ
should have labored to suppress and extirpate; whereas Rome
caters to them and fosters them in order to use them for her
aggrandizement. But none the less are these weapons potent.
They are exactly adapted to the nature of fallen man. As they
always have "been successful, they will continue to succeed in
this country. Our republican civil constitutions will prove no
adequate shield against them. Our rationalistic culture, by
weakening the authority of God's wiord, is only opening the way
for their ulterior victory. Our scriptural ecclesiastical order
will be no sufficient bulwark. The primitive churches had that
bulwark in its strongest Presbyterian form, but popery steadily
undermined it. Wihat it did once it can do again. There will
be no effectual check upon another spread of this error except
the work of the Holy Ghost. True and powerful revivals will
save American Protestantism; nothing else will.

THE INFLUENCE OF FALSE PHILOSOPHIES
UPON CHAFACTER AND CONDUCT/

Thougbtful men who read the various schools of philosophy
are struck with one feature common to the erroneous theories.
This Is the lofty assumption by their authors of complete irre-
sponsibility for results. Let the corollaries of their positions
be destructive to either ethics or theology, that does not con-
cern them. They say, philosophy has its supreme rights, let
them prevail, whatever else perishes. This, of course, clearly
implies the oool assumption by each author that his philosophy
is the absolutely true one; which again implies that he believes
himself dnfallible in it. Yet each contradicts the sound phil-
osophers, and also each of his fellow heretics. Schwegler dis-
dains all 'the great scholastics, pronouncing them incapable of
real philosophy, 'because they avowed the supremacy of the
Roman theology over all speculation. He evidently knows lit-
tle about them, or he would have been aware how little their
license oif philosophic speculation was really curbed by pre-
tended respect for Bible, councils, or popes. They oould al-
ways evade their restraints by their distinction — that what was
theologically true, might yet be philosophically false.

Now it Is as plain as common sense can make It, that if
there are any propositions of natural theology logically estab-
lished, if any principle of ethics Impregnably grounded in man's
universal, necessary judgments, if any infallible revelation, any
philosophy that conflicts with either of these is thereby proven
false. Now, I believe there is an Infallible revelation. There-
fore, unless I am willing to become infidel, the pretended phil-
osopher who impinges against revelation has no claim on me to
be even listened to, much less believed; unless he has proved
himself infallible. There are also fundamental moral principles
supported by the universal experience and consent of mankind,
and regulating the laws of all civilized nations in all ages. All

1— Appeared In BomileUc Review, January, 1896. 568

THB INFLUENCE OP MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 569

human Mstory and God's Word testify, moreover, that the dom-
inancy of these moral principles ie the supreme end for which
the universe exists, and for which Providence rules (read But-
ler's "Analogy"). The rule of Ood's final judgment is to 'be :
everlasting good to the rigihteous, condemna<tion to the wicked.
Here then is a criterion, as firmly estaiblished as 'the founda-
tions of human reason and the pillars of Grod's throne. He who
discards this criterion makes man a reasonless "brute, and the
world an atheistic chaos; that man has no longer any right to
any philosophy, any more than a pig. For has he not discarded
the essential conditions of all philosophy, intuitive reasons in
man, and rational order in the series of causes and effects? We
may, therefore, safely adopt this criterion as a touchstone for
every philosophy — that if it unsettles conscience and Grod, it is
erroneous.

I have now brought my reader to the eminent point of view
from which he sees that the real tendency of all false philosophy
must, in the end, be against good morals and religion. Lord
Bacon has nobly said that all the lines of true philosophy con-
verge upward to God. The ethical criterion, which is the final,
supreme rule of God, mankind, and the universe, must be the
apex of a true philosophy. The philosophic lines which curve
aside from God and right morals must therefore, in the end,
pervert character and conduct.

I shall be told that many speculators, whose philosophy I
hold wpong, lived better lives, perhaps, than mine. A Spinoza,
a Fichte, a Littre, a Stuart Mill, a Tyndall, were virtuous men;
even Helvetius was am amiable neighbor, and an honest fiscal
ofiBcer. Granted. Again, they resent my conclusion, as a big-
ot's insult, and a tyrannical "bond upon philosophic freedom of
thought. I reply: Nobody has any freedom rightfully to think
against God and righteousness. I reply again: I have assert-
ed this evil tendency, as only a tendency, in many, not always
a present result. Personally, I am glad to give full credit to the
good character of individual opponents. Again, the virtues of
these errorists were really the fruits of the side influences and
social habitudes of the very religion and philosophy which they
tried to discard. Spinoza was reared by Jewish parents under
monotheism and the ten commandments. Fichte, like Kant,
was a canc^date for the Lutheran ministry. Tyndall and Dra-

570 THE INFLTJENOB OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

per were both sons of pious nion-conformist ministers in Eng-
land. But the real question is: What of the moral influence
of their philosophies on the untrained and ignorant masses?
Lastly, whatever the civic virtue of these gentlemen, none of
them ever pretended to spiritual sanctity; which is the higher
and only immortal phase of virtue. The character which re-
gards man, the less, but disregards Grod, the greater, can not
be wholly sound, and can not retain, its partial soundness per-
manently. This is the inspired argument; and it is a fortiori:

"A son homoreth his father, and a servant his master; if
then I be a father, where is mine honor? and if I be a master,
where is my fear? saith the Lord of h'Osts unto you, O priesti?.
that despise my name" (Mai. i. 6).

I. A question concerning the influence of a false philoso-
phy may be tried historically. Here are the facts. The national
philosophy of China is that of ConfuciuSj which, we are told,
is simply modern agnosticism. The civil administration of
China, and the domestic morals, are rotten with corruption.
Lying, opium drunkenness, cruelty, bribery, cheating, infanti-
cide are current. India has a great and ancient philosophy —
pantheism. Her religions, Brahmanism and Buddhism, are
pantheistic. When the British went there, despotism, 'bribery,
polygamy, the suttee, infanticide, oflBcial plunderings, lying,
and cheating were prevalent institutions. Oaths in court count-
ed for nothing at ;all in administering justice. Thuggism was
a religion. In Greece, the sounder philosophy was supplanted
by .that of the Epicureans, Sophists, Skeptics, and the New
Academy. Then the glory departed, and Greece ^became vile
enough for her slavery. Then Roman virtue also died, and a
vast moral rottenness brought on the "decline and fall' of the
empire. In the eighteenth century, France adopted the sensu-
alist philosophy of Voltaire, and tiie selfish ethics of Helvetius.
The fruit was the Reign of Terror. In Russia, the Nihilism of
Bakunin is a philosophy, that, namely, of materialism and ag-
nosticism; its products are anarchy, prostitution, and assas-
sination. The same philosophy has shown us the same fruits
in Paris, New York, and Chicago. Lastly, everybody sorrow-
fully admits the decadence of political, commercial, and domes-
tic virtue in tiiis country. We need not detail the melancholy
instances, or paint the contrast between the Americans of to-

TDK INFLUENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 571

day and the America of Monroe and J. Q. Adams. Since the
latter epoch, the philosophy of Oomte, Stuart Mill, and Darwin
haiS been rapidly gaining ground.

Shall I 'be told that these are only chance coincidences and
not causal sequences? According to the inductive logic, se-
quences so regularly recurring raise a strong probability, if not
a certainty, of a true causal relation. Again, could instances
be adduced of the reverse order, where the incoming of a true
philosophy resulted in a decay of morals, our opponents might
have some offset to our facts: but there are no such cases.

II. And I now proceed to show that the sequences are
causal, by disclosing in these false philosophies obvious causes
of corruption.

Here an important fact should be brought forward. Man's
moral nature is diseased. Some perversion of will is inherited
by every man. Hence, farther moral decay is natural and easy ;
wihile the ascent back toward a higher virtue is arduous. Hu-
man souls are like a loaded train upon a down grade, whose
slight inclination, below the horiaontal, increases as it advances.
The natural tendency of the train is to descend slowly at first,
then with accelerated speed toward the final crash. A good
brake (a true philosophy) is quite efficient to keep the train sta-
tionary; thus much of good it can do. But the best brake can
not push the train upgrade, while a false one, failing to lock
the wheels, insures the descent and ruin of the train. Divine
grace furnishes the only sure power for driving the train up-
ward against nature. •

I know that it is the trick of all erroneous philosophies to
omit or deny this natural evil qualifying the moral disposition
of man; to pretend not to see it, to philosophize as though right-
eousness were as natural to man as sin is. To this arrogancy
I shall not yield an inch. As a philosophic analysis, it is false;
it disihonestly refuses to see a fact in human nature as plain
and large as any other fact in psychology. This evil disposition
now qualifying man's essentia is as clearly proved as any other
fundamental instinct, faculty, or appetency. How do they find
out that man, unlike the pig or the ox, is an esthetic creature?
In the very same way, were they consistent, they should find
out that he is by nature a sinning creature. All human experi-
ence, all expedieats of legislation, all history, every candid con-

572 THE IMTLUBNOK OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

scionflness, confirm it. I eay, therefore, plainly, that I shall
postulate, throughout this discussion, this tendency in man
toward moral decadence. It is a fact, and my argument shall
be that every dogma in theology, philosophy, politics, or husi-
ness, which lifts off the soul any form of moral restraint, tends
to moral corruption. Let us see whether each of these false
philosophies does not aholish some moral check.

The key-note of Buddhism is, that since feeble man's pur-
suit of the mbjects of his appetencies results in failure and x>aan,
his true virtue is to annihilate all appetencies, and thus win
nirvana. Then, of course, not only the animal, but the social ap-
petencies — sympathy, henevolence, pity, friendship, conjugal,
filial, and even parental love — must be expunged out of the
philosopher's soul in order to make him holy, forsooth! For
the appetencies set in motion hy these affections are the occa-
sions of far the deepest and most pungent griefa of human ex-
istence. That is to say: the Buddhist saint, in order to he per-
fect, must make himself a cold, inhuman villain, recreant to ev-
ery social duty. Such, indeed, their own history makes their
chief "hero of the faith," Prince Gautama, who begins his saint-
ship by absconding like a coward, and forsaking all his duties
to his wife, his son, his concub-ines, his parents, and his subjects.
But they say he afterward showed sublime altruism by offering
his body to be eaten by a hungry tigress, which had not suc-
ceeded in torturing and devouring enough antelopes to make
milk for her cubs. Bah ! methinks he would have done better
to care for his own deserted human cub !

Once more, the scheme founds itself on an impossibility.
Man can not by his volition expunge native appetenci'es, he-
cause these furnish the only springs of volitions. Can the child
be its own father? Eating results in dyspepsia; therefore, not
only cease eating absolutely, hut cease being hungry. That is
the recipe for the distress of dyspepsia ! But first, it is impos-
sible; second, were it done, all mankind would he destroyed in
a few weeks. Common sense says that when a man goes to pro-
fessing the impossible he begins to he a cheat. And this is the
practical trait of Buddhism.

They say the doctrine of tranamigration is a great moral
check, teaching the Hindus to avoid sin by the tear of migrating
at death into some more miserable animal form. I» it not a

THE INFLUKNCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 673

better check to teach them that at death they will at once stand
in judgment before an all- wise, just, and almighty Judge? May
not that Buddhist doctrine also frequently incite living men to
the fiercest brutality to animals, by the supposition that those
animals are now animated by the souls of hated enemies?

The pantheism of China, India, and the modems has com-
mon moral features. And the fatal influences are so plain that,
while they are of vast and dreadful importance, they may be
despatched in few words.

Then, first, when I act, it is God acting. You must not
condemn me, whatever villainies I act, because that would be
condemning God! Second, whatever men and devils act is but
God acting. Then where is the possibdlity of God's having, in
himself, any rational standard of right, by wMch to condemn
our sins? Does God's will in himself judge and condemn his
same will emitted in our actions? Or can that will be any
moral standard at .all which is thus self-contradictory? Such
a moral ruler would be worse for the pulpit, than none at all —
atheism less confusing and corrupting than pantheism. Third,
God's existence and actions are necessary, if any actions are;
but God acting, I have no free agency. But if not a free agent,
1 can not be justly accountable. Fourth, God is an absolute
unit and unchangeable being, eternal and necessary. There-
fore, if all happiness and misery in creatures are, at bottom,
God's own affections, there can be no real difference between
happiness and misery (Spinoza's own corollary). What will be
the effect of this inference upon that excellent quality, mercy?
The dogma must breed indifference to others' suffering, as much
as stoicism under one's own. Its tendency is toward a hard-
heartedness as pitiless as the tiger, the Are, and the tempest.
Fifth, if God is all, there is but one substance in the universe.
All other seeming personal 'beings are modal manifestations of
the One. Hence, each creature is but a temporary phenomenon,
a wavelet upon this ocean of being. Death, therefore, is a re-
absorption into the One. It is nirvana, the absolute, eternal
extinction of personality and consciousness — thus all panthe-
ists. Then for this other reason there can be no personal re-
sponsibility, or reward, or punishment in the future. All the
moral restraints of the doctrine of future judgment are as much
swept away as by atheism.

574 THB IMFLTJENOB OF MOEAL PHILOSOPHT.

We must be 1)1481 Hartmann and Schopenhauer have
shown that idealistic pantheism must lead to pessimism. But
all our new-fangled philosophies seem to think pessimism a
very naughty thing. It is their favorite bad word, with which
to pelt a Calvinist, a conservative, or any other whDm they dis-
like — to cry : "Oh, he is a pessimist !" But seriously, is pessim-
ism a hopeful or healthy outlook for a good man? What room
does it leave for the trio of supreme virtues: faith, hope, and
charity? On this head it is enough to name the charge, often
and justly made against the Darwinian doctrine of the "giur-
vival of the fittest," and the fated extinction of the naturally
weaker; that it tends to produce a pitiless hardheartedness. The
inference is logical ; look and see.

The old saw, "Extremes meet," was never truer than it is
of pantheism and atheism. The latter says: "There is no God
at all"; the former: "Everything is God." But the moral re-
sults of both are closely akin. In this, my indictment includes
genuine I>arwinism; for there is now no doubt that Dr. Darwin,
like his most eonsist'^nt pupils, Haeckel, Buchner, etc., believ-
ed that the doctrine ought to exclude both spirit and G3d. Their
logic is consistent; for if all teleology is ibanished out of na-
ture, and if that in man which thinks, feels, and wills is but an
evolution of brute impulses, inherent in sensorial matter, there
is no spiritual substance. We must have materialistic monism.
Then every moral restraint arising out of the expec-
tation of future responsibility, rewards, and punish-
ments, is utterly swept away. Why should men conclude
anything but, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die?"
To borrow Carlyle's rough phrasing: "If mine is a pig's
destiny, why may I not hold this 'pig philosophy'?" Again,
if I am but an animal refined by evolution, I am entitled to
live an animal life. Why not? The leaders in this and
the sensualistic philosophy may themselves be restrained by
their habits of mental culture, social discretion and personal
refinement (for which they are indebted to reflex Christian
influences); but the herd of common mortals are not cultured
and refined, and in them the doctrine will bear its deadly
fruit

Our opponents say that they can discard these old-fash-
ioned restraints of theologic superstitions, and apply better and

THE INFLUENCE OF MORAL PS1L080PHT. 675

more refined checks upon the coarser vices, viz., by showing men
that the refined pleasoires of temperance, esthetic tastes, cul-
ture, and altruism are higher and sweeter than the coarse plea-
sures of vice; and that the two classes are incompatible, so that
the lower shDuld be sacrificed for the higher. Yes; the world
has known of that subterfuge irom the days of Epicurus; and
knows its worthlessmess. Here is the fatal reply; and its logic
is plain enough toibe grasped by the coarsest: "/>ercus it gregt.
Epicuri cute bene curata." Refined Mr. Epicurus, it depends
entirely upon each man's natural constitutional tasites whi.ch
class of pleasures shall be to Mm highest and sweetest. You
say that to you music, art, letters are such; you were bom so.
I am so bom that these are but "caviare'' to me, while my best
pleasures are gluttony, drink, lust, gambling, and prize-fights.
The philosopher is answered.

Little space remains to me for unmasking the evil tenden-
cies of other sensualistic, expediency, and utilitarian philoso-
phies. -The reader must take hints. Their oommooi key-note is :
no a priroi, commDn, ruling intuitions of necessary, rational
truths, either logical or moral. Nihil in intellectu quod non
prius in sensu. Very well! Neither spirit nor Grod is cognized
by any sense-faculty. Therefore, philosophy should know noth-
ing about either. Secondly, the concept of the moral good, or
virtuousness in actions, is not cognized by any sense-faculty. Is
it seen as a fine color, smelled as a perfume, heaxd with the
ears as a harmony, tasted with the mouth as a savor, felt with
the fingers as satin or velvet? No. Then philosophy shctuld
know nothing about it. It should say there are no such things
in the soul as distinctly ethical feelings; nothing but sensitive
ones and their combinations. For mind can only feel as it sees;
where it sees nothing it should feel nothing. Then there are
two results; there is no scJence of ethics, nothing but a psych-
ology of sensibilities, which being merely personal, there is no
source for any altruism; it is a silly fiction. And, next, since
the sensibilities are only moved by objective causes, there is
no free agency. Look and see. Hume was logical in 'becom-
ing fatalist and atheist. So Hobbes, the father of modem sen-
sualism.

Finally, there is a modem class of professed religionists
who seem bo regard Mill, Darwin, Spencer, and Huxley as very

576 THB INFLtTENOE Of MOBAL tlllLOSOPHT.

apostles of philosophy (why, we know not) ; and when thereaf-
ter proclaiming their agnosticism, add, 'that they still leave
room for religion; that while religion has no standing-grDund
in philosophy, she may be admitted in the sphere of feeling.
Our pious neighbors are very thankful ! This is the "advanced
thought" destined to sweep everything before it; and we are
so grateful that it still leaves us a corner for our dear religion!
But common sense says : "Thank you for nothing, Messirs. Ag-
nostics. You have not left any comer lor our precious religion.
Better speak out as honest atheists. The universal law of mind
is that it can only feel normally as it sees intelligently. Where
there is no logical ground for credence, there should be no
source for feeling."

In truth, they let me keep my religion at the price of turn-
ing fool!

THE SAN MARCOS RIVER.

Mysterious river! -whence thy hidden source?

The rain drops from far-distant field and fen,
Urging through countless paths their darkling course,

Combine their 'tiny gifts thy flood to awelL
What secrets hath thy subterranean stream

Beheld; as it has bathed the deepest feet
Of everlasting hills, which never beam

Of sun or star or lightning's flash did greet?
Over what cliffs rushed thou in headlong fall

Into some gulf of Erebus so deep
Thy very foam was black as midnight's pall;

And massive roof of rock and mountain steep
Suppressed thy thunders, so that the quick ears

Of fauns recumbent on its lofty side
Heard not; and grass blades, laden with the tears

Of night dews, felt no quiver from thy tide?
Through days and weeks, uncounted by the sun.

Thy waters in abysmal caves have lain
In slow lustration, ere they sought to run

Forth to the day, purged from earth's least stain.
Pallas- Athene of the rivers, thou!

Who leapest adult in thy glittering might
From yonder hoary mountain, Zeus' brow.

Whose cloven crags parted to give thee light.
Thou teachest us, wise virgin; as through caves.

Sad and tear-dropping, steal thy sobbing waves.
Then flash to day; so virtue's weeping night

Shall surely break into the dawn's delight.

Emblem, thou, of maiden's love.

Burled deep in modest heart;

Growing there to secret strength.

Hiding, swelling, till at length

Its Lord's caresses bid it start

To life and Joy! Then forth it springs,

Circling glad in radiant rings;

Bliss and fruitfulness it brings.

Naiad bright, so deckest thou

With wedding wreaths thy shining brow.

Trailing ever verdant bands

Of fern and lily; as the lands

Thou weddest with thy close embrace.

In thy laughing, seaward race.

578 THE SAN MARCOS BIVXB.

Or dost thou tell us of a sterner theme?

How souls of heroes, like thy forceful stream,
Are bred and nursed in silence and the night.

Fed from the rills of secret prayer; their might
Recruited in grim strife with foes concealed;

Until, in fearful hour, the earthquake shock.
Of war, or civic crisis, cleave the rock.

Then, startling foe and friend, th^y move revealed
In beauty terrible, as pure as strong;

But seek the ocean of eternity
(Too soon, alas!) to which their names belong.

Oh, flood! though earth-born, thou dost seek the sky,
And this is thy prime lesson: On our tomb

Our resurrection waits; our souls shall fly

To heaven's sunlight from its blackest gloom.

This is the highest, this the noblest hoi)e.
To publish which thy secret caverns ope.

THE DEATH OP MOSES, i

Tbe sun stood flaming o'er the western deep.

Dyeing its troops of clouds nnd purple plain
With red and gold; whi> up the lower steep

Of Xebo, stole the slanting shade, to gain
His naked brow. Then came there np to meet

The evening rays a reverend man, with step
Sedate, but grand; and steadfast eyes' which greet

The opposing sun, mournful, yet strong to face
His flerces.t beams. His locks and beard are white

As Hermon's crest, which props the northward sky;
Yet limb and feature move instinct with migbt
Of manhood, and the soul tbat doth not die.
On topmost height- he pauses, pedestal meet

For Israel's Prophet King, the goodliest man
Earth ever saw, since Adam from bis seat
Reviewed his Paradise. Thus, he to scan
The scene stood long, then spake:—
"The heritage
To Abram pledged' I see: Oh goodly land.
To which our Patriarchs turned from age to age
With longing faith, to which my guiding hand
Hath led the tribes, as sires4 their infant cbarge.
For forty weary years, through burning sands.
Thy face how grand, thy boundaries how large!

Not like those pastures where we wore the bonds
Of our disgrace, parched with torrid heats.

Or drenched 5 with turbid floods. But tbou dost drink ^
From crystal founts that hold tbeir airy seats

In Heaven, fed from old ocean's farthest brink.
Thy features how harmonious, yet sublime!

Northward a wall of green, whose summits pierce
The lofty heavens, I see; but ere they climb

Into the clouds, put on a robe diverse.
Can 'earth-horn things assume a garb so pure?
How do blacl£ scar, and tawny peak outvie
The fairest tints of cloudland, yet endure,

Unmoved amid tbeir change, the while the s.ky
Doth kiss the earth! 'Tis Hermon clad" in snow,
Celestial raiment, woven of frozen dew,

1 Appeared In Union Setn'nary Magazine

IDuet. 34:7. 2 Duet, 3:27. 3 Gen. 17:8. 4 Duet. 1:31. 5 Duet. 11:10
6 Duet. 11:11, 7Jer. 18:14.

680 THE DBATH OF HOSES.

(A sight which sweltering Egypt couM not know)

la awful beauty, here mine eye doth view.
The Giant preacheth to thee, Oh, my soul!

Thus must Gofl's robe of heavenly righteousness.
Blood- washed, thine earthly soil of sin enroll.

Ere thou cans't soar and meet the skies in peace.
This side the mighty ramparts' foot, behold

The upper lake, mid its encircling hills.
Gleams like a mirror, which enamelted gold
Binds with its rim. Here Jordan lights

His verdant vale with many a sinuous coil.
Beyond, hills rise and fertile valleys spread

And plains expand, teeminji with wine and oil
And plenteous corn; whose glittering streams are fed

From springs perennial, mounts like billowy waves
Which winter's breath congealed e'en as they rose.

I see; within whose veins and darkling caves
Lie riches, matching what their fields enclose.

Iron and ruddy biass'^ Here, at my feet.
Sheer down two thousand cubits, sullen sleeps

The lake of doom, (hemmed in by borders meet
Of savage crags and thunder riven heaps)

Above the accursed cities of the plain.
Beyond those ridges spreads an azure band,

Which shows us where old ocean doth restrain
The western margin of the utmost land.

Here is thy home, Oh Israel! here thy rest.
In these green vales thy dwelling thou shalt plant.

And on these swelling hills thy God hath blest,
Here shalt thou guard the holy covenant

I gave you, taught by future line of seers;
While peace shall multiply thy teeming seed
' To fill the land, until the promised years
Of Shilob 'i coTie; whose hand divine shall lead

Your hosts, and wield at once my kingly rod.
The Prophets crook, and Aaron's censer lit

With heavenly flame; and shed that awful blood
(Which meaner streams where e'er our altars sit.

Dimly foreshadow,) that shall cleanse the world.
From yonder hills, with Israel's temple crowned,

Messiah's flag of peace shall be unfurled.
While earths remotest nations gather round

To catch his gospel light, and learn'' his ways.
The Sun of Righteousness shall, on that hill.

Hold his fixed zenith, and from thence his rays
With light and holiness and peace shall fill

All gentile lands, the foul and bloody seat
1 Duet. 11:14-9. -i Duet. 8:9. 3 Qen. 49:10. 4 Isaiah 2:2-3. Isa. 62:10.

THE DEATH OP MOSES. 581

Of the usurper Satan. Israel's race,

Nation of Priests s. shall lead their willing feet
And cleansed hearts to seek Jehovah's face.
All Iands8 shall Canaan's he, and this our home

Again the Paradise of God. But I,
Such his. decree'! I must not hope to come

To that good land; but look, and long, and die!
Would it were mine (can mortals' hearts sufBce

To check the wish?) to lead my people still
In this, the crisis of their great emprise

To prosperous ends, and so my charge fulfil.
Across the stream, yon citji of the Palms

Pollutes its goodly seat with noisome sin.
I hear its trumpets blow their loud alarms;

Its saucy warriors with defiant din
Insult the air, and crowd the hither wall

Like moiling ants; the blazonry of hell.
Inscribed on streamers, flags, and peunous tall.

Likeness of Molock, Ashtaroth and Belle,
And Dagon, Scaly God, affronts the skies,

Thrusting incarnate fiends, who personate
Murder and brutish lust, blaspheming lies.

And rites obscene, into the holy state
Of our JehoTah. I, a dying man,

Denounce your doom of death. Earth could not bear^
The sins of Sodom longer, which out-ran

God's longest patience — yours beyond compare
Exceed your fathers'. See their ghastly tomb

Beneath yon hitter wares, whose funeral stroke
Meas.ures the tread of your approaching doom.

Fain would I live to see those ramparts broke;
To head those martial hosts I taught to tame

The rage of Siliou and of Bashan's king.
JehoTah'sS banner, folds of cloud aud flame.

Should be the topmost sky their terrors fling.
My great Lieutenauti aud m\ dogS of war,

Jephunneh's stalwart son. would I uulash.
My trumpets' summons, Israel's fierce hurrah.

And charge resis,tless, should these bulwarks dasli
Like flims.y shreds away; whose wrecks should be

Defiled graves forever for God's foes.
Or if such moments must not come to me.

In which the joy of battle overflows
The hero's spirit, there were calm delights

SExod. 19:6. 6 Ps 72:11. 7 Duet 3:23-29. Num. 20:8-12,

lJoshutt6:l. 2 Gen. 18:20. ch. 19:2», 3 Exod 18:21, Eiod. 17:15. 4 Duet.
34:9. 5 Caleb meany dog.

582 THE DEATH 07 M08BS.

For which I yearned. I hoped to see the tribes.
Seated In prosperous peace with ordered rights

In this good land, where holy priests and scribes,
Noit Captains stem, should teach the milder ways

Of love and faith; and gentle evening Psalms
Instesd of trumpet's blare should close the days.

Swelled by sweet mothers sitting neath their palms.
And childrens' voices soft. I thought to share

The sacred rapture of that final feast.
When all our hosts, purged from stains of war,

Shall to the altar come with grateful breast
In long procession, while the silvery note

Of Levites horns, and choirs of chanting priests
Make the high echoes of our anthem float

From earth to Heavens own arch; and smoking beasts
Of holocaust and Incense pure shall raise

Their cloudy columns, fragrant with our thanks,
To speak to God a ransomed nations praise.

When I had led my people's jubilee.
Should come my rest, perpetual Sabbath rest.

With brain and heart, and weary members free
Frpm those hard toils which had my life oppressed.

The klngl in Jeshurun no more, but only one
Among my equal brethren, should I dwell

In my own modest home, my like- work done ;
And to my children's children daily tell

God's works and laws ; until, as yonder sun,
Whose nether limb e'en now doth touch the deep.

His toilsome race of power and splendor run.
Sinks in his azure bed to quiet sleep

Amid serenest lights; thus should I seek
The grave, my couch of calm and glorious rest
• But why this earth-born wish, as vain as weak!
Against that flxed decree, that stern arrest

Of hope and life? I must not cross this flood.
Nor share those joys, debarred by my offense,

Once small appearing; till thy chastening rod,
Oh Father, taught me, and the clears sense

My conscience gains from heaven's approaching light.
I bow my guilty head; for thou hadst placed

My state so high, no trespass could be slight
Which I might work, nor folly, which disgraced

Thy power, deputed to my creature hand.
Just is my sentence, black my sin with pride

And heats forgetful of thy strict command.
So thy sole glory fain would I divide

1 Duet. 3S:S. i Num. 20:10.

THE DEATH OF MOSES. 583

Betwixt myself and thee. Oh wish profane I
As though thy rod of power were mine to wield.

Blessed be God! 'tis not a wrathful hlow
Which smites my sin, hut those soft strokes that yield
Medicinal cure: And that hlest s.tream which flows

Along the ages from his smitten rock'
Preflgured hy the meaner hlood we draw

From dying substitutes of herd or flock,
Hath washed me white from guilt of broken law.

Thou chastening, pitying God, I how to thee
In peace supreme, my fond desire recall

From earth and time, to find in Heaven and thee
My home, my land, my church, my all in all!

Now earth, and sea, and sky, and sun, farewell!
T look my last, nor would the look renew.

A fairer scene than Canaan casts its spell
On my enraptured spirit. To my view

A purer radiance rises, at whose heams
Yon sinking orh looks dull. I see from whence

This flood ineffable of glory streams.
Not hy corporeal eyes, hut inner sense

Of spiritual sight, which to my soul reveals,
The Heavenly gates, whiter than Hermon's snow,

And loftier than his peaks. And from them peals
Celestial harmony, whose accents flow

In mingled strains, so soft, so high, so clear.
Our Sanctuary's i)salms discordant sound.

Earth, thou are naught.^ My ravished heart and ear
Forget thy charms. Upon this verdant ground

I lay me dowu, weak with excess of hliss.
To drink the glory in with steady gaze.

The vision brighter glows. What trance is ibis,
Which thus exhausts my sOul with glad amaze'/

I feel the fanning wings of Cherubim,
I bear their voices whisper: "Brother, come!"

Now death '^ thou vanquished foe, lead me to Him
Whose bosom is my everlasting home.
Moses dies Satan appears rising from a dark ravine to seizes his body, but
Michael with a troop of Angels repulses him with majestic and grave rebuke:
whereupon bis company bear away the corpse to Its burial,4 chanting a hymn to
Messiah.

3 1 Cor. 10:4.

1 Ps. 73.26-26. 2 Duet. 34:6. 8 Ep. of Jude v. ». 4 Duet. 34:6.

THE CHRISTIAN WOMANS DROWNING HYMN.

A MONODY.

(A Christlaii lady and organist, went July, 1886, with, and at tlie
request of lier sister, for a few days' excursion to Indianola. Tliey
arrived the day before the great night storm and tidal wave, which
submerged the town. Both the ladies and children, after hours of
fearful suspense, were drowned, the house where they sought refuge
being broken to pieces in the waves. A survivor stated that the or-
ganist spent much of the interval in most moving prayer. Their re-
mains were recovered on the subsidence of the tempest, and interred
at their homes, amidst universally solemn and tender sympathy.

The following verses are imagined, as expressing the emotions of
the Christian Wif6, sister and mother, during her long struggle witli
the waters:)

Sister, awake! Oh list! there is a change;

The moon, whose flood of light, at eventide
Made of the placid sea an answering range

Of star-Jit sky, the upper heavens beside;
Sheds now its fitful gleams through angry rifts.

The fanning breezes that caressed our locks
Are swollen to a gale, on which there drifts

The shriek of drowning men; and sullen shocks
Of waves, like trampling hosts, assault the ground—
> Oh hear beneath the hollow, deep sea-moan
Soh of unrest eternal! where doth sound

The smdthered agony, and parting groan
Of all the dead that ocean's caverns keep.

Our hearts, oh! sister, yesterday were hright
As was the sun-lit surface of the deep;

Our mirth was like Its ripptes tipped with light—
We thought hu't In this summer-sea to lave.

Our memhers fevered hy the dog-star's ray.
And yet, heneath our laughter's rippling wave

My spirit heard a moan, which seemed to say
In tone half-felt, unreasoning; beware!

Thou art the type, thou beauteous, treacherous sea
Of mortals' lives, whose sunny Joys show fair

But to prelude the the storm.

Come, let us flee!
See these intrusive surges, each more nigh

Than Its audacious fellow! Sister, come!

BAPTISMAL HTUN. 585

Too late, thou sayest? 'Ere now the breakers fly,

Crowned with crashing wrecks and seething foam.
Across that narrow Isthmus, where alone

Our path to safety tey. Remorseless deep,
Thy cunning, faithless work, thou hast well done.

We are thy helpless prey, which thou wUt keep
Fast caught in thine embrace, to wait the death

Thy flerce yet stealthy tread will bring. Oh fate
So sudden, unforeseen! to end our breath

In our strong prime! To set so short a date.
One eve, betwixt our joy and our despair!

Insidious foe; knewest thou that manly breast,
Those nervous, sheltering arms are absent far.

Which even thy mighty rage would dare contest
For her he loved? Against two women weak.

Two frightened babes, inexorable king.
Resounds thy diapason dread, the shriek

Of walling beasts, that bear upon their wings
The hissing spray, and thunder of thy hosts

To drown our puny cry.

So with thy shout.
From far-off tropic deeps and Oarib-coasts

Thy huge reserve of floods thou callest out
To whelm these helpless lives. Our bruised limbs

And garments rent are tossed like leaves that float
On autumn blasts; while ever nearer climbs

Thy cruel, lapping wave, to clutch our throat.
Yea, thou art mighty in thy rage, oh sea!

Thou, atheist Titan, wouldst assault the sky
And fain wouldst bid the frighted stars to flee

From thy vast tumult! But they do not fly!
Between the storm-rent clouds I see their beams,

Slender but steadfast, and serene as clear.
Disdain thy brutal wrath; and with them streams

That still, small voice believing spirits hear;
Soft, but more potent than thy deaf'nlng roar.

It is thy Master's voice, insurgent deep.
Who sits above those stars, who shuts the door.

Or opens to the storm, who bids thee keep
Thy subject bounds, and measures all thy flood

In his mere palm; when he bids, "Peace; be still;"
Thy waves shiiil crouch like beasts, beneath his rod.

Thou tossest wide thy billows' hands to kill.
The everlasting arms enfold and keep

My better life; Jehovah, he who guides
Yon starry worlds, as shepherds lead their sheep.

Inspires my psalm of faith, above the tides
Of thy vain tumult, ringing high and clear.

B86 BAPTISMAL HYMN.

Belov'd on earth, farewell! Oh heavenly spouse
I come! thy voice doth cast out all my fear

And charms my soul aloft. Thy will allows
To the devourer, naught hut this poor clay,

Earth-born like it. Then, take it, ravenous sea!
Thy futile spoi'.; thou hast an empty prey.

Even this for a day— nor shall it be
The food of thy sea monsters, nor be drawn

To thy dark caverns. This my soul foresees.
Grown prescient in the light of heaven's near dawn.

Whilst thou shalt cower at my Lord's decrees
Back to thy kennels, this poor frame shall lie

Embalmed in loving tears, and take its rest
Beneath the flowers and sheltering groves, hard by

The peaceful homes of men; and temples blest
Of Christ; until his resurrection-mom

And that new world, when "Seas shall be no more.'
Thus, from thy stormiest crest, with holy scorn,

I mount to peaceful mansions, where thy roar
Xo more shall reach, tlian to yon starry orbs.

A SONNET TO LEE.

Israel one David, Athens one Pericles,
Thehes one Epaminordas CQUld produce.
Thy State, O, Lee, of greatness more profuse,
Nurtured two Washingtons upon her knees;
The first to crown on earth his God did please;
But thy reward was set thee in the skies.
Sterner thy fate than Jackson's; him to rise
And feel no fall, appointed Heaven's decrees.
From thy high noon thou turnedst to the west,
By clouds infolded, thunderous and dark.
Which yet, reluctant, spread around thy rest.
Purple and golden glories, prescient mark
Of that eternal radiance which hath hiest
Thy soul, heyond our sun's inferior arc.

GENERAL T. J. JACKSON.

AN ELEGY, 1887.

Six days our hearts stood still' witb keen suspense;

Our champion lay sore smitten of God's hand.

The seventh, our hope was slain, for he was dead!

Our prayers, were vain; and now our palsied sense

Knows not our grief to utter. Weep, O land!

Who shall inspire thy threnody, and wed

Thy walls to numbers mournful as tby breast?

[nyoke no pagan Muse, whose fabled sigh

And painted tear but mimic woe sincere.

Come rather, thou, the Spirit who dost rest

In truth's eternal seat; it was thine eye

Illumined him we mourn; and thy pure fear

His greatness was. Thee then, we call to teach

Our pain fit voice, who.did.st thy seer's lament

Attune to chant meet dirge for Zion's fall.

"Oh that our heads were waters!" Tben might reach

Our floods of tears to the full argument

Of our calamity, "as we recall.

In contrast black, our hero's glorious mom

With this drear night that clouds it at midday.

But twice twelve moons before, Virginia said:

"Hither my sons to meet the invaders' scorn!

They deem we withered in obscure decay.

My bosom dry of that proud milk that fed

My Washingtons and Henrys. O'er my head

They shake the loathed scourge, as thougb to sway

To slavery this soul to freedom born."

Then of her myriads, rallying to her cry.

Our mother's instinct owned him foremost son.

Modest as prompt, with spirit trained to might

In secret prayer, with Bayard's chivalry

Of ftiitb begotten; with a val^r won

From God's own strength and trutb's serenest light.

She gave ber banner to his stainless hand.

Thence, like the day-star blazed he in her front;

His sweep, the wind's, bis stroke the knell of fate

To them who durst pollute ber sacred land.

Onward and upward, through the war-cloud's brunt,

He socired with steady wing, as though to' Instate

GENERAL T. J. JACKSON. f)89

Her flag In ffeedom's peaceful citadel.

Then, midst his loftiest flight, our eagle fell!

That we were falPn with him we learned too late.

Yea, bow, O Lee, in grief that kingly front

To which all others hent; and weep thou drops

Such as were shed hy Israel's warrior king.

For Jonathan and Saul the highty slain.

For now from thy right side disaster lops

The arm which wont thy victories to hring;

And could thy grandest purposes explain

In grander deeds. Yea, weep thou hoary chief!

For with his parting soul success hath flown,

To come no more. Not that thy worth is less.

Or patriot-will to win thy land relief;

Nor all thy heroes with their pattern gone.

Still shall ye toil and die; hut full success

No more shall crown these toils, stanch as his own.

Still shall your gallant struggles honor save.

Losing all else. And weep, ye rugged hosts.

Who laughed in hattle's dead-lock: He is gone

Whose shout worth fresh hattalions: "On ye hrave!"

Inspired your charge. Weep too, ye martial ghosts,

Who, parting from your hleeding flesh, were glad

That he still hattles to avenge your fall.

For none remain that vengeance to demand.

Until the heavenly court's decree he had.

But chiefest thou, Virginia, round thee call

Thy mourning women; drape thy widowed land

In hlackest weeds, and let thy eyes he wells

Of hitter waters. Yea, and thou didst mourn!

Twice didst thou bury him; thy maids with flowers.

Thy elders with his mother-earth. Thy bells

With dismal stroke and cannons' hellowiug groau

Measured thy funeral step, as all thy powers

Unrolled their gloomy ranks.

But hadst thou seen with his presaging eye.

How much was lost with him; hadst broke the seal

Of fate for thy succeeding years, and read

As he had read, that thy best sons should die.

Yet win no rescue for the commonweal

By their rich blood, as vain, as freely shed:

How conquerors, ruthless in their pride of power.

Should trample thy fair neck, whose queenly foot

Found rightful place upon the oppressor's head;

Cunning and malice rule the dismal hour

Of thine eclipse, and fraud and force uproot

Each right Implanted by thy fathers dead:

How doltish serfs and alien thieves should foul

590 GENERAL T. J. JACKSON.

Thy seats of power, once by thy sages graced;

While all thy noblest, fairest, wisest sank

In want obscure, hounded by slanderous howl:

Arnd worst, how some, thy sons, whom thoji hadst placed

'Neath thy free banner, in the honored rank

Of thy defenders, wooed by filthy greed,

Should aid. Oh shame! their mother's chaius to draw:

Hadst thou seen this as thy dead champion saw;

(And that it might not be was fain to bleed)

Then hadst thou wept, not tears of brine, but biood!

Yea, woeful mother, weep! There is no herb.

Euphrasy, rue, nor balsam, that can buy

Health for thy deadly hurt; this saw thy Lee:

Hence in the battle's edge the end superb

Of those who for, and wrth their country die.

He sought, but could not find; thus God's decree,

So as he must not fall, nor could endure

To see the glories bought with fathers' blood

So foully ravaged, lost beyond recall.

His mighty heart-strings brake, his spirit pure

Went up where wrongs no more oppress the good.

Lift up thy waii, Virginia; thy stone wall

Thy tower of strength is prostrate. Mothers, weep;

Who for your country gave your bodies' fruit.

Dearer than life; yet willing their dear blood

Should buy her dearer freedom. Widows, weep :

And ye, unwedded maidens, wan and mute,

(Fit mates for heroes) who for country's good

Could nuptial Joys forego, and think her weal

Full recompense for all your widowed lives:

For HE is lead: your priceless price is spent.

And no deliverance bought Ah! harshest deal
Of sightless fortune! this the thought that rives
Your aching hearts. Oh God, why hast thou sent
Such mockery of hope? Why bid arise
Such champion of our cause, and let him bring
The boon so near our grasp, and then withdraw
Thy gift, his work unfinished, to thy skies?
Forgive the faithless question. Sovereign King.
We read its answer with repentant awe.
In our own sin. He was thine overture;
Thy merciful proposal to us, writ
In characters more clear than prophet's word.
And more divine, in life and deed too pure
For earth-born virtue; such as could befit

No source but Heaven. And by his righteous sword.
Great rescue and defense didst thou bestow.
Plucked from the Jaws of death and peril dread

UENEKAI. T. J JACKSON. 591

Not once, but oft; wherein this meaning shone:
"Would ye be free and great? Tour giant foe
Would ye o'erthrow, and crush his ravenous head?
Be what your .Toshua is: as he liath done

Do ye. Like unto his, be all jour ends
Your God's, your country's and the truth's: your enfe
Denied for duty, and your valor taught
Of my true fear. This way yonr God commends:
Win ye walk in it to a glorious peace?
Fair overture and true! The State inwrought
With this man's virtues, all her sons like h:ni.
Had been unconquerable, absolute,
Achilles of the nations, panoplied
Not by the baptism of the infernal stream.
Lucre and cunning and the strength of brnte
Conferring; but with holy power supplied
From that clear flood, that watereth the street
Of God's eternal city' impregnable.
So ours, fenced by this righteousness, had stood
'Gainst Satan's world. On what wise did we meet

God's overture? Our purpose mutable

Postponed His call: we fain would hare the good
And yet neglect Its source; would seize the crown,

Tet slight the appointed race. So sluggish peace
And hope deceitful lure the thoughtless brood

Not worth the prize; ^who draw the angry frown

Of God, and His avenging hand release.

But thus not all. Thus spake the goodlier host:

"Yea Lord, we will be free, and on thy terms!"

And these God's model followed where he went.

To bloody graves; or else, to mourn tbeir lost

And chant their dirge, remain. Our sin conflriiis

The just decree. "Thy visitation sent

In mercy's chosen day thou knewest not

O land! But in thy wealth hebete and gross.

Thou wouldest not read aright God's offered gift,"

That question solved, before disaster blot

The scutcheon of God's knigbt, or honor's loss;

Up to his rest doth he his servant lift:

His task Is done; the woe he must not feel.

Boast not upon his fall, ye haughty foes:

Ye slew him not. Your stores no missile held

To touch tliat sacred life. No bolt, nor steel

Forged for your greed or malice could unclose

The links of heavenly mail the truth did weld

Across that breast. The' intent was yours, and guilt:

But impotent as foul. God's was the deed.

Wherefore, as Instruments He chose the friends

592 OWTB^AL T. J. JAOKSOir.

Who (or this life would joyfully have split
Their dearest blood; unwitting as the steed
Which bore blm, or the lightning's bolt which rends
The clouds to minister Jehovah's will.
For not of wrath, but love the strode was pledge,
It took Ood's (aTorlte from the coming doom.
Whose baleful sbad9, than Artie night more chill.
On his propbetlc epul now cast Its e^ge,
Prognottlc o( the blacker, coming gloom
Of freedom Ipst. Tbere«t bis swelling soul,
Spnmtjw tbe shameful bonds with grand disdain,
Bunt from tbe fetters of his earthly frame.
And soared forever free. A^uoder roll
The' eternal gates; while from their glittering fane
The spirits troop, his brotherhood to claim.
Who free from chains of bondage lived, or died.
But we, alas! unwortby of his fate,
Live on to wear the chain, and watch his dust
By venal and contemptuous tongues belled;
Of manhood scarce retaining such poor state
As dares to guard aright our funeral trust.
For on the soil baptized by his blood.
Hie comrades raise no monumental stone
To make Uis name endure. The lowly grave,
Tbat keep» what earth reserves of him, had stood
Unmarked, but that a weeping woman, lone
And widowed, still than bearded men more brave.
Planted her modest shaft; and maiden's hands
Weekly bedeck his sod with wreathed flowers,
Soon withered, like the cause he loved so well.
Thus lowly lie, in this dishonored land

Valor and truth and those imperial powers
Of genius consecrate (in Heaven they dwell

In state supernal!) while the sordid dust
Of coarse oppressors, great hut in their crime,
Greedy of gold and blood, their people's shame,
Usurps the honor sacred to the just,
Amd flouts the heavens with braggart shaft sublime;
While mercenary mobs resound their name.

And fawning priests, worst traitors to Christ's word.
Teach them to cry: "Success, thou art divine!"
"Be thou our God, for thou dost eate our lust."
Thou sittest judge of all, O righteous Lord!
Thou wilt arise and let Thy judgments shine.
And tbey shall clear the memories of the just.
Our grievance we revoke; thou, mighty shade,
Lackest no mausoteum, while true hearts.
And such there are, enshrine thy memory.
These nolder temples of thy tame, not made

GEXEBAL i. 3. JAOESOir. 693

By earthly hands, nor graven by men's arts,
Shall keep thy glory! And these mountains free,
Eternal watchmen round thy modest tomb.
They are fit sentinels; their soaring pealis
Point to the skies which tlioii inhabitest:
Steadfast like thee, whether the winter's gloom
Change them to iron, or Aurora's, streaks
Emblazon them like mansions of the blest;
Or glittering snows enwrap their giant forms.
White as thy heavenly robe, so earth meets sky.
And mortal ken can scarce discern their bound;
These keep their faithful ward through calms ami storms
Nor cease to speak thy name, till time shall die
And thy great Captain's flnal trumpet sound.

ANNIHILATION.

They boast that "death IB an eternal sleep,"

Where, If no mocning e'er restores delight,
At least, no moniner eiver. wakes to weep—

The simile Is false; the- endless night
That has no dawn, brings not the soul to rest;

But to despair: For he who rest^ awakes
To consciooe ease that satisfies his iquest

For recompense of pain— The life that mnke^
A woefut ending is a woeful life.

He is the victor who retains the field
\ytien battle ends: And thus the closing strife

Of earth-born anguish, if the future yield
No compensation, must forever cast

Its blackness backward on the wretch's fate.
Let nature speak, whose craving, deep and vast

Teams for existence, be our conscious state
Or sweet or bitter; like the seeing eye

Insatiable of light, or ear of sound.
Desire Instinct, inwrought of God most high

Not rule of Interest astutely found
By after calculation, as is taught

Of our first father's sleep in Paradise
His drowsed sense, untroubled, though he thought.

He then to nothing whence he took his rise
. Was lapsing swift. It is the voice divine

Speaking within us, which Instructs our wish
For endless being. Blse why is it mine

TTnUke the unreasoning bird or beast or fish.
To recollect the past; to anticipate;

To fear the future woe; to hope the good?
Accursed was the gift of prescient thought

That raised our empty pride above the brood
Of brutish things; for it a He hath taught.

The hind can crop the herb and course the lawn.
Or drink the mountain spring with thoughtless glee,

TTntronbled by the hour her dying fawn
Cost her a transient pang; nor doth foresee

The hunter's coming shaft that seeks her brenst.
No memory brings past sorrows, no foresight

Arrays its future terrors to molest
Her present joy: One sudden thrill of fright.

AITNIHILATION. 696

One stroke, one death-throe end» the whole career,
Simple aind hrlef, hut rounded hi Its joy.

Why should I die like her If I must fear,
Bemember, hope, desire, doomed to employ

My nohlest powers of helng to pursue
Futility? Why mine to stretch the thought
To progress onward, and the endless view
Of growth of soul with larger glories fraught.

In widening yistas mounting through the realms
Of knowledge boundless? Why when present love

With its alluring hliss the heart o'erwhelms.
Is It ordained our foresight still .must rove

To future days, that love might fill like this
With equal Joys, yet know it must not he?

Why Is it reason will not, cannot cease
To frame that thought supreme, eternity;

Capacious of infinitude of good,
Mocking the soul with cravings infinite.

If nfe must be the span the bestial brood
Enjoys? Abhorred span! that art hut meet
To shew us Being's woes, and then Its loss
Irreparable. Cursed he the boon

Of such existence, cheating with its dross
The golden hopes it sanctioneth, as soon
As they begin to glow— The better lot
Is given the brute, who drinks the trivial cup
Of life, and ends, forgetting and forgot.
If death ends all, a blacker thought looms up:
Then all we love must perish when they die;
We part forever, and the love that blest

Our hearts remains a wound that shall not dry
Its bitter stream till Nothingness arrest

Our woe and being by one common blow. '

Love is immortal: all things else may die;

The forest kings decay, the ceaseless fiow
Of ancient rivers, proudly sweeping by

Long buried cities, wane, the steadfast heads
Of everlasting mountains waste and stoop.
The hoary seas desert their sunless beds;
This ordered frame may backward droop

To endless chaos— But the eye
That shiees with love's self-sacrificing light

Outlasts the beams which from Arcturus fiy,
Orion or Bootes: it is bright

With God's own rays. He is the sun of lore
And they the orbs that round the centre roll

Keflecting him, as they forever move
In circles shaped by his supreme control,
He Ifi etem&l; so the gift divine!

696 ANmHiLATioir.

Is all we love then, mortal? Do the flres
Of genius, kinaled from the heavenly shrine
Of truth and beauty, perish, as expires

The gilded huttcrfly or tinted rose?
Or shall the Sage's vision, that can pierce

Through Nature's secrets, make the sea disclose
His deep ahyss, and ride his billows fierce.

Can map the planet's pathway and foretell
Their sure returns, can bridge the flood ;

That can the s-torm-cloud's subtile bolt expel,
"Can look from nature up to nature's God,"

And in his works can read his deeper thought;
Be quenched in darkness like the rotting eye

Of newt or toad? The heroism that wrought
A nation's disenthralment, fain to die

For country's weal, and seek no recompense
But conscious right, the martyr's steadfast faith

Which Joys to die for Truth, and own no sense
Of fiery torments: mother's love, which hath

No thought of self, consummate eflluence
Of heaven's own virtue; perish evermore

As utterly as hypocrites' pretense.
Or as the buhhles bursting on the shore,

Or as the glitter of the serpent's scales
Decaying back to dust? 'Tis blasphemy!

Bethink ye; If this creed of death prevails
To doom our spirits to mortality.

It leaves no trace of God on nature's page —
If man is soulless, then an atheist world

Is all he knows, where senseless forces rage
In fire, and sea, and storm, and suns are hurled

With troops of waiting stars, by aimless might,
'Through voids immense, and blind mechanic fate

Inexorable, on its throne of night,
Sightless and pitiless maintain its state

In earth or heaven there is no ear to bear
The sufferer's prayer; mo heart to feel his woe;

No band to shield the gust, or to repair
The foulest wrong that ruthless force can do?—

So right eternal perishes, and crime
Endures eternal, scorning all repeal.—

Then are this lower earth these heavens sublime
One vast machine, 'neath whose remorseless wheel

The corn is human hearts, instinct of pain.
And joy, and hope, and fear, that writhe and bleed,

Till ground to nothingness. Ob piteous grain!
Ob dreadful engine! Monster! that dost feed

Thine endless grind with oountless precious lives!

ANNIHILATION. 597

Is sucb a world our home? 'Tis dark as bell!

Its joys but mock us, since no joy survives;
But death and loss Irreparable dwell

Perpetual masters. Yet, one otber fate
There Is more black— the eternal recompense

Which conscious guilt forewarns it, may await
The soul which cannot die, nor find defense

Against the Judge changeless, omnipotent—
Ah! this the thought whicb drives tbe coward heart

Tbe desperate alternative to cboose
'Twixt bell and nothingness— A better part

Appears to faith— Then why. Oh mortals, lose
That nobler choice. Redemption? bought with blood

Of God incarnate, wrought by power divine.
The safe inheritance of perfect good.

Tbe grace that shall your inmost souls refine
From error, sin and sorrow, and bestow

The angels' life of bliss and purity.
Whose years are measured only by the flow

Of God's eternity : The gift as free
Pa every thirsting soul as air of heaven!

Why do men turn from glories sucb as tiese
To dreary nigbt and death? and still elect

Infinite loss and naught o'er boundless seas

Of joy? Because, shame! Their guilty fears delect
The treason and the folly tbey have wrought

Against themselves and tbeir best destiny

In seiTing sin! This infamy hath taught

(And this alone) the atheist's grovelling plea.
That death may be to them "eternal sleep."

THE TEXAS BRIGADE AT THE WILDERNESS.

(Written May, 1890.)

It was upon the sixth of May, five miles from Lee away.

Our corps amid the forest lay, before the break of day.

Our limbs hy the hard marcb distressed, close to the grouud we

pressed.
As by forgetful slumber bltest, we took our dreamless rest.
Tho' now aud then the cannon's boom disturbed the silent gloom;
Our ears, locked up as in tbe silent tomb, gave to the sound sm.Tll

room;
But what is this bids sleep depart; and makes each soldier start.
The hot hlood throbbing at bis heart, with sense and mind alert?
The long roll beat! "Fall in!" they cry; "Fall in, the minutes fly!"
For these ftve miles we must pass by our succor to supply.
The teeming foes our friends confront, whose weary swords an'

hluat
So we are needed at the front to bear tbe battle's brunt.
Our rest was short; our food was none; but our fatigue was goue;
Our leader calls and we press on, as eager racers run.
The stars above, so calm and brigbt, sbed down their solemn light
Through forest leaves with dews bedight. Over the waning night
Aurora spreads her rosy fire. The timid birds aspire
To tune their thankful, morniiig choir. But hark! tbe contrast dir?.
The canuou's roar and sul^jhurous flash, and bloody weapons clash;
The thud of trampling, panting steeds, the wounded wretch who

bleeds,
Bewailing paugs which no one heeds, amidst all deadly deeds!
And now the sun confronts our eyes, lurid with battles' dyes.;
Beneath, the tangled forest lies, whence fumes of topbet rise.
Thereat we strain our thews anew, we pierce the tumult througli;
Alas! the sight tbat meets our view: who stand and fight are few.
From broken ranks the many flee. But, courage! Yonder, ^5ee.
Upon the battle's edge is Lee! The god of war is he!
Serene, elate, with steadfast will', be bids the storm be still.
He plants his heroes on the hill, the deadly breach to fill.
We lead our march; to us he turns. That heart, each mau (lis:enis.
Big as a world, with pity yearns, and yet with valor burns
Sterner than deatb and fate.

"Ye Texas men whom Hood has led,
Who for our land so oft have bled,
But from the foe have never fled;

TUX TEXAS BBIOADB AT THE WrLDBBNKSS. 599

Now is your time to fight!

"This hour decides your country's weal;
Quick! into line of battle wheel.
And give the enemy cold steel;
And God defend the right."

What answer gave the fierce hurrah that rent tlie lowering sky?

Our purpose grim, our flery will, resolved to do or die.

But well we understood the task, now set for us to do.

Our Corps was near, its ranks were full, its men were staunch and

true;
But time must lapse before the mass is formed in due array;
And to our foes what vantage ground may not this space betray?
It is our blood that must redeem this time, and so give pause
Till ampler food be ready made to fill this Moloch's jaws.
"Forward, the First Bridgade!" cries Gregg, but not alone leads he;
For lo! beside him at the front, the towering form of Lee.
Where he sends us he too will go. A crisis worth our blood
He sees; his own more precious drops must join our cheaper fiood.
HJe bares his head; the sunbeams stain his hoary locks with fire;
He speaks no word, but look and mien sublime ail hearts Inspire,
Then from the grizzly soldiers' eyes who wont in battte's throes
To laugh, and mock at peril's dread, the briny fiood o'erflows..
Not coward-tears are these, but such as come from martyr's eyes;
Who for Cba-tst's truth, and heavenly joys, the stake and fire despise.
Ye proud invaders, well may ye these weeping foemen fear;
A thousand drops from next your heart, shall pay each generous tear.
For hear their word: "For that old man we'll charge the gates of

hell!
Nolr shall he share the deadly risk!" for he is loved too well.
Let lives the cause can better spare make up the holocaust.
Here then we halt, till he retire to his more proper post.
At last he yields. Now shall he see, how we will do our parts.
"Forwaird again!" with trailed arms each man impetous starts.
Like hounds unleashed that seek the game, we pierce the smoking

wood.
Five to our one, in leafy screens ambushed, the foemen stood.
"One volley, boys, low, in the breast; then to the bayonet!"
As through the tangled brush we tore, a second line we met.
And <o!aw a third, replacing those that fled before our blo'ws.
And worse; their overlapping wings our right and left enclose;
With fire in front, and fire in fiank, our thin lines melt away.
Our charge must pause; we are too few! But here at least to stay!
And we will die so Uard and slow, that Lee the time shall save
He needs, to form his battle lines— so shot for shot we gave.
And death for death at closest range; till half the hour was spent.
At last! thank God! at last 'tis done. Hark to that shout which rent
The very heavens! Hurrah! They come, Longstreet and Anderson.

600 THE TEXAS BBIOADB AT THE WILDEBNESS.

Earth shakes beneath their myria'd feet! Hurrah! The day is won!
Two miles ahreast, an alavanache of fire and steel they rush;
And 'rank on rank in fragments hreak, as ocean billows crush
The rotten barques; and drive the shreds, as chaff before the storm.
Six hundred men and seventy-two there were that mom, to form
The sturdy remnant of the lines, at first three thousand strong.
Four hundred now and fifty lay the bloody trail along.
Bleeding or dead. How far we kept our pledge these numbers tell.
Ghosts of our comrades dead, know this: Ye were avenged well.
If streams of meaner blood could pay for each rich drop of yours.
All honor to our gallant Gregg! As yet the heavenly powers
Bore him unscatched in danger's front. All honor to our slain.
Who gave their all for country's sake; their names shall live again
While we can sing their deathless deeds. All honor to the chief
Who fain would spend his blood with ours, to buy our land relief.